


Please Mister Postman

by sachertortes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12905889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sachertortes/pseuds/sachertortes
Summary: This holiday season, instead of writing Santa, Darcy has been writing to her penpal. Topics of conversation include: life, work, favorite holiday recipes, and that one ridiculously annoying person who gets under her skin.Bucky has a penpal, too. He tells them about life, music, his best friend’s hilarious failed attempts at getting the girl, and this one person who never fails to aggravate him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \- So this was obviously inspired by _The Shop Around the Corner/You've Got Mail_ , but it won't be following those plots exactly. You definitely don't need to watch those to enjoy this fic!
> 
> \- Next update should happen in a week! Until then, come see the moodboard/graphic I made for this fic [here](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/post/168160026185/please-mister-postman-a-wintershock-holiday-fic)
> 
> \- Come hang out with me on tumblr [here](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/) :) 
> 
> \- Thanks for reading everyone! I'd love to hear from you all! <3 <3 <3

“Jane Foster, you turn that off right now!” Darcy groaned loudly as she walked through the sliding doors the lab. Both of her hands were full with balancing numerous coffees on a huge cardboard tray and she blew a strand of hair off of her forehead.

“What’s wrong?” Jane asked absently, duct taping something tiny and metal to her upgraded magnetometer.

Darcy set the coffees on the nearest counter, elbowing papers and textbooks and pens out of the way. She turned to Jane with a huff and a hand on her waist.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that Thanksgiving is barely over, and you’re blasting Christmas music! What heresy is this?!”

Jane shrugged, and went back to tinkering and writing notes. “I hadn’t noticed. It’s just the radio.”

“Ugh,” Darcy grumbled, throwing her hands in the air. She went over to the radio and cut off Bing Crosby mid-croon. Taking her coffee from the tray, she slumped down at her desk, and jabbed her laptop on.

“Why are you so grouchy to – ooooh!” Jane finished the thought herself, smiling devilishly. “Did your boyfriend not write back yet?”

Darcy nearly inhaled her lovely hazelnut latte into her lungs. As it was, she was this close from sputtering it all over the front of her t-shirt.

“My whatnow?” she said, putting her cup down and dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a knuckle.

“The guy you write to.” Jane turned around in her chair to waggle her eyebrows at her.

“I told you, Janey, we’re just penpals.”

“Okay,” Jane answered.

“There was a note in that tone. An unconvinced note.”

“There was no note!”

The whole thing started when Darcy used the laboratory account to e-mail who she thought was Jane about work. (“OHMYGOD, someone relieve me of these motherfucking scientists!!!”) and the person, _who was decidedly not Jane_ , wrote back (“I absolutely agree, but I think you have the wrong e-mail address.”)

It was the start of beautiful (online) friendship. She found she opened up more when she could be anonymous and so she always signed off on her emails as ‘Del’ (her initials, there was no time to get too creative) and he was simply, ‘J’.

Sometimes, they’d go weeks without contact but then they’d pick right back up, talking about their days, their friends, giving book or music recommendations, telling dumb jokes.

Darcy knew that whoever she’d been emailing had to work at the facility. It was the only way she was able to contact him over the work servers in the first place. But eventually she got herself a separate email account and so did he.

Jane continued. “Sure, Darcy. That’s why you get even more distracted than usual when you haven’t heard from him in a while.”

Before Darcy could protest, FRIDAY’s smooth voice interrupted them over the speakers.

“Doctors Foster and Lewis, Sergeant Barnes is requesting entry to the laboratories.”

Jane whipped her head around to glare at Darcy. “What’d you do now, Darce?”

“Shit! Oh, god. Janey, cover for me!” Darcy cried, then took her coffee and slid under her desk, hugging her legs to her chest and making herself as small as possible.

Soon the tell-tale thump of boots on the floor gave her just barely enough warning before a supersoldier made his appearance.

“Doctor Foster,” Barnes greeted.

And yep, Darcy recognized that tone already. That clipped, brusque manner that said that the Winter Soldier was _not_ amused. She tamped down a squeak and clutched at her coffee cup.

“Hey, Barnes. What can we – I do for you?”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

Barnes let out a sigh. “You know who.”

“Oh, Darcy? Who knows? Sleeping in over her alarm? Nursing a hangover? Making Steve watch more Vine compilations?”

Darcy rolled her eyes.

_Thanks for making me look like a responsible adult, Janey._

The footsteps approached closer and closer as Barnes began to make his way around the lab. Eventually, she saw the scuffed toes of two huge, black boots on the other side of the table.

Darcy held her breath.

“What did she do?” Jane asked and Darcy bit down on her lip hard to keep from giggling.

“She knows what she did,” Barnes answered gruffly.

There was a pause and Jane must have given him a look of some kind because he let out an annoyed breath and answered.

“She replaced all of my hair ties with – those, those crinkly ones. …Skrinkles.”

“Scrunchies!” her dumb mouth supplied for him. She clapped a hand over it, alarmed and face flushing.

Shit shit shit.

She put her coffee on the floor and readied herself to make a run for it, if need be. Not that she’d ever make it, considering who Barnes was and considering her gym membership card was gathering dust in her bedroom.

There was the sound of Jane’s burst of laughter, then a beat passed.

Two beats, and she let herself hope that maybe his supersoldier hearing was wonky today.

Then there were three sharp knocks on the top of the table above her head, the thunk of metal on wood.

Not so wonky, then.

“Come outta there, Lewis, and I promise it’ll be painless.” Barnes voice was smooth and deceptively calm.

“Lies,” she hissed and curled up further.

“That’s it. M’gonna pull you out,” Barnes threatened over her indignant squawk. She tracked his boots as he made his way to her side of the desk.

“Not in our laboratory, you won’t!” Jane declared, taking on that firm voice that let everyone know that this tiny scientist was in charge.

“Yeah, Jane! Tell ‘im!” Darcy crowed.

“And _you_!” Jane continued. “I thought you – “

“He started it!” Darcy interrupted, poking her head out to glare Barnes who glowered right back, arms crossed over his expansive chest. “He put glitter in my shoes! I was tracking sparkles for _weeks_. I knew you and Clint hanging out was a mistake.”

“Is that why there was neon green glitter in here last week? The janitor was _not_ amused.” Jane’s voice was weary as she added, “How old are you guys again?”

“Well, I’m staring down thirty and Barnes is…” Darcy giggled, shuffling back under the table. “Holy shit, Barnes, you’re _over a century old!”_

Bucky responded to that by grumbling something vicious under his breath then added, “Yeah? Well, this old geezer’s gonna – “

“My point is you’re both too old for this. Barnes, please leave so Darcy doesn’t have to live out her 30s under the table,” Jane replied.

He leaned down to peer at her under her desk, and his unamused blue eyes stared into hers. Barnes would have her head if he knew how comical she found him right now, upside down and long hair falling straight from his head like the Winter Soldier had stuck his hand on the giant plasma ball at the science museum.

“Be seein’ you around, Lewis,” he uttered lowly, then straightened back up. “That’s a promise,” he added as he left through the sliding glass doors.

Darcy shambled out from under her table, dusting off the knees of her jeans. Carefully, she placed her coffee back on her desk then poked her tongue out at Barnes’ back.

Shows what he knew. Darcy and Jane had been at the facility for a full eight months before Barnes made his scowling, broody way out of Wakanda and to the significantly less glamorous locale of upstate New York. She knew all the best hiding places. Well, maybe not all. She was certain Nat still held the record for being able to ferret out the best secretive spots. Still, she managed to scare the crap out of Clint once, accidentally sneaking up on him when he was trying to decide between candy bars at a vending machine. (He was probably just distracted by the prospect of chocolate, but she’d take the win no matter how small.)

The partition to the other part of the labs opened and one of Jane’s newer scientists walked out. Kurt, who got into CalTech at 14 and had several PhDs to his name. Stark and Jane both had handpicked him from a tall stack of applicants to work in the lab.

“Oh, good,” he said, rolling his eyes and pushing his safety goggles up to rest on a mop of curly red hair. “You’re all done messing around so we can get back to work.”

Darcy reddened, her stomach clenching with embarrassment and annoyance. She felt very much like a kid who’d been chastised by an elementary school teacher.

Kurt went over to the tray of drinks and studied the one with his name written on it. “You remembered Stevia, not sugar this time, didn’t you?”

When Darcy confirmed, he nodded and went back towards his work station.

“You’re welcome!” Darcy called out sarcastically and got a wave over his shoulder in response. “Assface,” she mumbled under breath.

Jane frowned at Kurt’s retreating back.

The rest of the scientists flowed in, one by one, to pick up their coffees. Some thanked her, and some didn’t.

“Darcy, you know you don’t have to keep bringing in coffee for everyone, right? You’re not an intern anymore, you’re a scientist just like they are. And they know how to use the break room Keurig just like everyone else.”

“Just felt like being nice is all,” Darcy protested absently, even as she did wonder why she kept bringing in sweet, caffeinated sustenance for ungrateful jerks.

Darcy sighed. She knew Kurt hadn’t meant it in that way but sometimes it sucked to be reminded that she was just a regular person among Stark’s and Jane’s fellow geniuses. Sure, her title was no longer Intern, but even with her advanced degree she still felt like one among them.

Darcy got up and somewhat morosely cranked the radio back on, ready to drown her thoughts in work and holiday music, unseasonal or not.

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear Friend,_

_You said you work in “security” at the facility (congrats on the vagueness, btw, I guess we’re all in “security” at Stark’s place). But sometimes I wonder if I’d ever walked past you or something? Maybe we were in line together at the cafeteria or the coffee shop and never even knew. Maybe we’ve shared an elevator (I hope you’re not the guy who drowns himself in Axe every morning. Totes gross)._

_I know, I know. We said no names and no identifying details. But I guess I just wanted to know that there’s a friendly face out there? Today a co-worker just made me feel like a tiresome toddler in like, five words lol. Have you ever felt that way? Like you’re little and less than someone else? Made worse because they hadn’t even meant for it to be hurtful or whatever. Maybe I’ve got a chip on my shoulder about being surrounded by extraordinary people and I am definitely, painfully ordinary._

_Whatever._

_Anyways, I’m going to take a bath and sleep it off. A hot bath and Ben & Jerry’s always helps, right?_

_-Del_

_PS: what are your thoughts on holiday music? For me, from December 1 st to the 26th it’s totally acceptable but anything outside of that, is not. I don’t need to hear Ariana Grande screeching about Santa when I’ve barely finished chowing down on some turkey, you know?_


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky dragged himself into the common room, entire body aching. He knew that in about a half hour he’d be as good as new, but until then he was cursing himself for letting Nat get a hit on him to the side of his ribs. He guessed he was lucky, though. For many, the razor-sharp smile Nat gave him a millisecond before striking like a cobra was the last thing they saw.

He took the bottom hem of his shirt and wiped his face, nodding once to Barton who was sitting on the goddamn kitchen counter despite chairs being available.

He reached into the refrigerator for a bottled water and downed all of it, the plastic crumpling satisfyingly in his left hand before he threw it into the recycling bin.

“Nice hair tie, man,” Clint snickered around the rim of his coffee mug.

Bucky tossed a kitchen towel at the archer’s face which he deftly caught.

Clint continued, “I didn’t realize you were such a big _Frozen_ fan.”

“S’that what this is?” he pulled it from his tangled, sweat-damp hair and stared down at the maniacal face of a buck-toothed snowman. “And you know I ain’t. Lewis just thinks she’s being funny again.”

Barton slid down from the counter and placed his empty mug in the sink. He thumped a hand to Bucky’s shoulder and raised a brow at him.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Just let it go,” Barton said, and laughed at his own joke as he left the room.

Bucky held the stupid piece of fabric in his hand for a moment then shoved it in his pocket.

The hint of a plan was already starting to form when he went over to the bottom shelf of the communal cupboards and surveyed the contents.

Honey Combs. Apple Jacks. Froot Loops. All brightly colored, all sugar-filled.

All of them Darcy’s.

Darcy who, if she could be bothered to have breakfast along with her endless cups of coffee, had to have the bowls of sugar and artificial, eye-bleedingly bright colors.

The corners of Bucky’s lip curled into a devious smile.

One by one, he moved each box to the highest shelf, thankful for the high ceilings at Stark’s place. For good measure he hid one of them behind Ms. Potts’ containers of healthy organic rolled oats.

Then, he took a banana from the fruit bowl and began to head out, whistling tunelessly to himself.

He passed his foil at the doorway. She was sleepy and bleary-eyed, sporting messy bed head and unlaced sneakers.

“Good morning, Darcy,” he greeted, cheerily. Too cheerily. Suddenly she didn’t look so sleepy anymore. She eyeballed him with suspicion from behind her purple framed glasses.

“What did you do?” She squinted at him.

“Nothin’, what did _you_ do?” There. Redirect. He reached out to tug on the hood of her completely ridiculous pug print hoodie. “And what the hell are you wearin’?”

“Shut up, Barnes,” she said, distractedly rubbing her fingers at her eyes behind the glasses frames. “It’s soft and comfy. You should try it. You can’t sleep on concrete and eat rocks forever.”

Bucky shrugged and began to leave. In fact, he was almost halfway down the hall before he heard Lewis’ aggravated shriek.

“What the hell? Where’s my cereal?! _Barnes!!_ Get back in here!”

Shit.

Maybe if he just pretended not to hear…

Nope, that was definitely Lewis stomping down the hall after him, about as silent and subtle as a herd of elephants wearing tap shoes.

He plastered on his most impassive face when he turned to look into her very unamused one.

Then Darcy, who was never one to shy away from his cybernetic arm, wrapped her fingers around his left wrist and pulled him back inside the common room.

She gestured to the lower shelves, conspicuously free of her cereal.

“Fix. It,” she grumbled at him.

“Fix what?”

“C’mon, dude. I don’t have time to go to the coffee shop this morning and I need my energy in the form of delicious sugar bomb cereals. I just know Kurt is gonna unload a shit ton of data on me to organize today.” She ran a hand through her tousled curls and frowned at him. “Fix it,” she repeated.

He did concede that she sounded tired. And she looked kind of exhausted actually, not that he’d ever tell her.

“Make you a deal. Give me back my normal tie…things, and I’ll get you your disgusting cereals.”

Darcy sucked on her bottom lip, considering. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Five minutes later, she was handing him a handful of hair ties.

“These aren’t mine,” he said, glancing at the little pile of black elastic in his hand.

“I know, dork. These are mine. They’re better. They’re Ouchless.”

“…Ouchless.”

“They won’t pull at, or damage your hair. Trust me, I’m a girl, I’m basically a connoisseur of potentially non-painful beauty accessories.” She pulled at the string to her hoodie. “Now where the hell is my cereal, Bucky Barnes?”

“So tell me where you short people keep the step stools and I’ll go get it,” he said while he pocketed his new hair ties.

“Barnes, _you_ were supposed to get the boxes down!”

He gave a small shrug. “You can give a man a fish…” he trailed off.

“I’m not a man, and these aren’t fish. Also, you put them up there!” she pointed at the highest shelf for emphasis.

“Listen, do you want your cereal or not? ‘Cause I’ve got a meeting with the weapons techs that I don’t want to miss.”

A lie. The meeting was with his Sam Wilson-appointed therapist, and he would’ve loved nothing more than to miss it.

“There aren’t any stools in here, that’s why I keep all my stuff on the bottom shelves,” Darcy said slowly, as if trying to make a toddler understand. Then she smirked. “You’ll just have to lift me.”

He gave her an incredulous look, lips twisting and a little furrow forming between his brows.

Lift her?

Was she serious? Good god, she was. A knot formed in his stomach.

He hadn’t even realized he was flexing his fingers until he felt the elastic ties pressing into his palm, in his pocket. Now that he thought about it he didn’t really touch people very often outside of friendly pats on the back or sparring with members of the team. Even his threat to pull Darcy out from under her hiding spot the other day had been an empty one. Had he even put his hands on a civilian in a casual setting since HYDRA had _their_ hands on him? He couldn’t be sure.

His fingertips itched. He reminded himself to calm down then forced himself to school his features into something more neutral.

But Darcy must have seen the fleeting look on his face anyways because she immediately backtracked.

“Shit,” she said, beginning to take a step away. “Or not! I was just messing with you, Barnes, you don’t have to –”

Bucky clenched his jaw so hard, his molars hurt. He could do this.

And he couldn’t let this dame have this one over him.

“Get in front of me,” he growled.

Her eyes widened. “Uhhh…”

He raised a brow. “I know you’re short, but don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights, too.”

“Oh, god, _fine.”_ She came to stand in front of him and obligingly held up both arms. “Go ahead and lift me, you – _eeep!”_

She let out the exclamation when he suddenly leaned forward and grasped gently at her waist.

“Ready?” he asked. He never wanted to admit it, but the question was just as much for him as for her – his heart was doing a pretty good impression of a galloping horse at the moment. He dipped his head forward towards hers, the faint scent of her fruity shampoo temporarily filling his nostrils.

“Bring it, Barnes,” Darcy said to him over her shoulder, plump lips curled into a hint of a smile and chin tilted in a challenge.

He tightened his hands at the dip in her waist and gripped firmly, careful not to hurt her. In one smooth, quick motion, he lifted the girl off the ground and she let out a whoop of laughter before quickly grabbing at the cereal boxes.

When he set her down, Darcy set two boxes onto the counter and turned in his arms, face pinked and hair mussed up even more than it was before.

“My hero,” she drawled, one corner of her lips curled upwards. He ignored the dry tone she used.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Tony walked in, already poking at his Starkpad, glimpsing up just enough to slide them both a suggestive smirk.

Darcy jerked back from his hold and shoved gently at his chest with her hands. Bucky stepped away, swiftly dropping his own hands from where they were still grasping at sides of her jacket.

“Ugh, as if,” she said, turning away from him and flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Oh, sweetheart, you _wish_ ,” he bit out in response.

She rolled her eyes, took her box of Honey Combs, and stashed it under an arm.

“Later losers,” she called out as she left.

Tony gave him a too-bright smile. “Ahh, young love first thing in the morning.”

Bucky felt for his new (plain, black, …”Ouchless”) hair ties in his pocket.

“Can it, Stark.”

Stark shrugged, unruffled. He then dragged his feet getting his orange juice and a handful of granola bars. Bucky could’ve sworn he could _feel_ himself grow grey hairs while waiting on Stark to find his exact favorite flavor of granola from the box.

“See you around,” Tony mumbled around the breakfast bar he was shoving in his mouth as he finally left.

Alone at last, Bucky slipped his phone from his pocket and didn’t bother to tamp down his happy grin when he found that he had an unread email. Missed it, to be exact. Going by the timestamp she’d sent it the night before. And he would’ve received it too if he hadn’t conked right out after training.

Settling into a chair, he eagerly read his message.

Some time later (after he took some quick detours to Google) he had his response typed and sent.

 

_Dear Del,_

_Sometimes I wonder if we’ve crossed paths, too. But I can promise you that I’ve never drowned myself in Axe. I hope you’re not the person that takes my coworker’s parking space, it makes him very cranky and unpleasant to work with._

_As for your coworker - the fact that you’re working here already means that you are definitely, painfully extraordinary. Remember that. I say when someone makes you feel “less than” show them that you’re not. At the end of the day, even they remain unconvinced you’ve at least proved it to yourself._

_I know I can’t be a friendly face, but I hope I can be a friendly voice._

_-J_

_PS: You’re barking up the wrong tree when it comes to holiday music. I’m usually not a fan of any of it. But if I had to pick I like the older stuff, I guess. I had to look up Ariana Grande. Not bad, but how about this one?_

_< Attached mp3: Judy Garland – Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas>_

 

* * *

 

  

Darcy was eating handfuls of Honey Combs dry from the box, with her feet resting on her desk when her phone chimed.

She read and re-read J’s message. She even downloaded the song he attached even though she’d heard it before.

The song was halfway to a completed download when Darcy glanced up to see Kurt walking towards her desk. She didn’t miss his frown of annoyance at the distinct lack of coffee today. He was also carrying a giant stack of data readouts that made Darcy’s stomach sink.

He placed them all on her desk with a heavy thump and all of the bobbleheads on her desk nodded in response. Marie Curie looked especially enthusiastic.

“Lewis, if you please?”

Here it was, her chance. She stomped down the worst of her insecurities, J and Jane’s words echoing in her head, and gathered her courage. Swinging her feet off the table, she swiveled around to face him fully.

“Doctor,” she said firmly, making herself hold eye contact with him.

Pruitt blinked. “What?”

“You can call me Darcy if you like, but it’s _Dr_. Lewis, now. Got my PhD in May. I’m not an intern anymore. So,” she took most of the stack and handed it back to Kurt, “I’ll be analyzing _some_ of your readouts for you as a favor. Just this once.”

“Oh, but –“

“If your workload is too much, you can try and request an intern from Jane and Stark if you like?” She looked at him, blinking innocently and head tilted slightly.

Kurt pressed his lips together. “That uh – won’t be necessary. Dr. Lewis. Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome!” she answered with genuine cheer. She picked up her pen and pointed at him with the purple fluff at one end. “I’ll have these for you by the end of the day.”

Kurt nodded, mumbling another thanks and turned to go.

“Oh, and Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“Unfortunately, I won’t be doing the coffee pick ups anymore either.” Darcy paused and considered for a moment, shuffling Kurt’s stack of papers in front of her to avoid looking at him. “Well, I might if I feel like it, or if there’s some special occasion. But until then, the Keurig has lots of different pods and stuff. There’s even hot chocolate. I checked.”

There was a beat of silence from Kurt and then, “Sure, of course.”

When he finally turned to go, Darcy let out a huge breath and let her shoulders sag from the release of tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding. A giddiness that welled up inside of her and she desperately wanted to share her small victory with someone.

Jane wasn’t in yet, having worked until into the night before. Jane was starting to get a little better at the work-life balance, so Darcy knew her science buddy would probably be in a little late today.

(Jane will also probably stay until well into the evening tonight too, though – she’d gotten a _little_ better, but she was still Jane.)

So, Darcy decided to shared her little win with her second best choice. As Darcy began to compose her email, she had another thought.

_Dear J,_

_Would it be alright if I gave you my number? That way we can text, much faster than email._

 

Texting.

Maybe he wouldn’t want to. Texting - _potentially, theoretically_ \- meant having access to a person all the time and felt much more personal than email. It certainly felt more revealing than the “no names/no details” rules they’d made up for themselves.

Nervously, she entered in her phone number, and hit send before she could overthink herself into oblivion.

A minute later her phone chimed with a text and her heart leapt figuratively into her throat while _she_ leapt literally in her seat.

Darcy hadn’t even realized that she was so nervous until she saw her own thumb shakily hovering over the message notice.

_[UNKNOWN]: Hi, Del._

 

It was only two words, but she grinned so wide she her cheeks ached with it

After several clicks the contact info was simply changed to simply, ‘J’.

_Del: Hi, J! I did it! I did the Thing you said, and ok I sort of McFreakin lost it on him, but I got my point across!_

_J: I knew it you could do it. You kicked their ass didn’t you. Did you need to call the medics?_

_Del: Ha ha. I stood up for myself like verbally. No punches!!_

_Del:  Felt good, dude :)_

_J: Good :)_

_Del: Now I’m gonna listen to that song u recced and relax._

_J: What, so far out from Christmas? Say it ain’t so._

_Del: Quiet, u. I’m gonna have to rewatch Meet Me in St. Louis bc of u._

_J: You’re welcome._

_J: I’ve got to go now, I’ll talk to you later?_

Darcy sent him the peace sign emoji and stuck her phone back in her pocket.

 

It was soft and fluffy and floaty up there on cloud nine (maybe even ten or eleven of she was being honest with herself) but she still managed to click her pen on, and began sorting through Pruitt’s data.

She was listening to the song J sent her from her phone and even with just one earbud in, Judy Garland’s rich voice singing wistfully filled her with warm contentment. Feelings that probably came more from the person who sent her the song than the composer, not that she wanted to examine those emotions too closely.

Jane walked in a moment later, smiling in greeting, and placed something on her table.

It was a slice of cranberry-orange loaf on a paper napkin. It was even iced.

Darcy eagerly fell upon her treat.

“Oooh, Jane, I love you!” Darcy said, words slightly muffled, around the delicious baked good.

“What were you humming?” Jane asked, one hand holding her slice and the other slipping her bag from her shoulder.

“I was humming?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.” Darcy busied herself with chewing slowly.

“You were humming a Christmas song.”

“…Oh.”

“Uh-huh. You yelled at me when I had the radio turned to it just the other day.”

“Um. J might have sent me a song. Oh, yeah! We’re texting now! I thought it’d be weird but it’s not. Also, I told Pruitt to shove it and that I’m no longer anyone’s lackey around here! It was pretty cool.” Darcy took her napkin and wiped a glob of icing off the side of her finger while watching Jane process her word spillage.

Jane shook her head slightly. “Wow. That was. A lot. Okay, the second thing, though! You told off Pruitt?”

Darcy nodded, put down her pastry, and held out her hands triumphantly. “Ya girl ain’t doing other people's work for them anymore!”

Jane laughed, slid over on her wheeled office chair and gave Darcy a high-five. “Told you you could do it.”

“Thanks, Janey.”

“And the other thing?”

“Yeah, so. We’re texting now. That’s a thing we do.” Darcy took a deep breath and exhaled. “I told him about Pruitt since you weren’t here, and he was all ‘ _I knew you kicked his ass, did you have to call the medic?’”_ Darcy imitated a deep male voice. “And I was all like, ‘No it was a verbal ass-kicking’ and then he sent me a smiley face.” Darcy paused for breath before a stricken look came over her face. Jane sent her a bemused look.

“Oh, frack,” Darcy said. “Jane. _Jaaane._ ”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m into J.” Darcy groaned and slumped over to thump her head on her desk. She might have to thank Kurt later for the cushioning that the paperwork provided. She felt two little pats on her arm.

“I know, Darce.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky was headed back to his quarters, tired and wrung out. He’d been grateful that he and Del started texting that morning. He was waiting for his appointment with his therapist to start and a distraction was sorely needed – and if that distraction came in the form of messaging a funny, kind person then who was he to argue?

But then the session started, and he had to go. And now he knew why most people scheduled their sessions for the end of the day. He’d asked his Doc to try morning sessions because he wanted to get them out of the way, but he hadn’t thought he’d be so _bone-deep_ _tired_ afterwards, like he’d run 30 miles and stayed up all night to keep watch on a target besides. And after all of that he had training and meetings all day.

He’d meant to go straight to his place and pass out, he really did.

But his hearing picked up some familiar voices coming from the common room, and from the low hum of conversation he picked up his name.

“You should give Barnes a break, kid, I don’t think Clint’s ever gonna let the _Frozen_ thing go,” said Sam.

Bucky made a mental note to go easy on Wilson next time they were in a battle simulation.

“I _am,_ dude, I’m trying! But he just – he gets under my skin. I don’t know. I tried to be so sweet and nice and stuff when he got here but he’s just…grumpy at me for no reason!” Darcy protested.

Bucky was about to go in there and give Lewis all of the reasons, but Sam interrupted his thoughts to say, “No reason?”

There was a pause and he could hear her huff in irritation.

“He’s like…like, fruitcake.”

_Fruitcake?!?_

Darcy went on. “Technically a dessert so we _should_ like him but he’s tough to get into. Eugh, fruitcake.”

“Steve likes him.”

“Steve’s old, too! You know what they used to like back in the day?! Aspic! Meat jelly, Sam, meat jelly.”

There was Wilson’s answering laughter and if he wasn’t mistaken, Darcy’s too.

He stomped off to his quarters and he stewed in his annoyance for a little while, sitting on the couch and remembering the fruitcakes of his youth.

They were always dry, with sticky too-sweet preserved fruits, mostly resembling doorstops than actual food.

Mrs. O’Neill from down the hall always made one for his family come holiday time and he remembered choking down slices to be polite. He always liked it better when his ma made her chocolate cake or when Mrs. Rogers scraped up enough money to gift him and Stevie oranges.

So that’s how Darcy saw him? A cranky old man, unliked by all, like a damned old piece of cake?

He pulled out his phone.

_J: I should warn you about me. Everyone thinks I’m mean._

 

Some time passed before she texted back. In the meantime, he flipped idly through the channels on his television and pulled some sandwiches out from the fridge.

He was in the middle of eating one when his phone chimed.

 

_Del: You don’t seem mean to me._

_Del: Do you have RBF?_

_J: RBF?_

_Del: Resting Bitch Face.  It’s when ur face is unintentionally terrifying and intimidating_

_J: Oh. Then yes. Sometimes intentional, though._

_Del: Only sometimes huh?_

_Del: hmmm I hereby downgrade u from “mean” to “prickly” maybe?_

_J: Yeah prickly. I like that._

_Del: Like a cactus!_

_J: Ha ha._

_Del: Hey succulents are in now!_

_Del: I wouldn’t worry about it. Not everyone has to like you. At least that’s what I keep telling myself._

 

Bucky smiled at her last message. She was right of course.

Still…

He finished his food, then pulled on his jacket and grabbed his keys.

He found himself in a 24-hour convenience store, although why anyone would need access to Extra Hot Beef Jerky Tubes 24 hours, Bucky would never know. The new century was an amazing and confounding place.

Still, _he_ was there under the humming fluorescent lights and displays of colorful candy next to the display of colorful chips, so he really couldn’t pass judgement.

He found what he was looking for in the back of the store, next to the magazines and air fresheners in the shape of pine trees.

They were all tumbled together unattractively in a huge festive red and green striped box, the sign above it enthusiastically proclaiming, “ONLY $5.99!!”.

He reached in to the very bottom and pulled out the saddest, most bent out of shape one from the display.

When he paid for it at the counter even the previously bored looking cashier looked taken aback, like he forgot they even sold them.

Outside of Darcy’s apartment door, Bucky took the item out from the paper bag, bent down and rather ceremoniously placed it on her welcome mat.

He smiled to himself as he sauntered away, balling up the paper bag in his hands.

The fruitcake, slightly squished and studded through with bright green and red fruit, sat in its red cellophane wrapper with a big, gold bow on top - the world’s ugliest time bomb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- no offense meant if you love fruitcake! i've only had it once as a kid (i was tricked by the fun colors and the novelty bundt pan shape!) and i wasn't a fan ;)
> 
> \- I'm on tumblr here [here](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/)! come say hi :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Thursday update appears!! Please enjoy <3

Darcy woke cocooned and snug in her cozy flannel sheets. Despite pulling a late night before, she was pleasantly warm and for the first time in what felt like a long time, well-rested. She yawned, stretched luxuriously, and in movements that were nearly automatic lately, reached for her phone.

She had a message from the night before. It was just a simple one from J, but it made her smile anyways.

 

_J: Goodnight._

She snuggled further into the softness of her bed, stretching out happily. It was Saturday, she was meeting Jane later in the lab, so she could sleep in and – she glanced out her window – the sky was white-grey like it was about to snow any minute. In other words, it was perfect.

She licked her lips, trying and failing to hold back a grin.

 

_Del: Morning!_

 

His response was almost immediate.

_J: good morning_

_Del: Sorry if I woke u!_

_J: No I’m up. Headed out for a run._

_Del: ugggggggh you’re one of those. Warn a girl jeez._

_J: :)_

_J: one time i met this guy out there:_

Darcy tapped her screen for a close-up for the photo he sent -  a black bulldog with his pink tongue lolling out of a smiling mouth. He wore a green knitted sweater with white reindeer printed on it.

 

_Del: i love him!!!!_

_J: what already??_

_Del: i fall fast_

_J: good to know_

Darcy’s heartbeat stumbled a bit. But before she could even fully process his comment – was that flirting? He was flirting, right? – he sent her another message.

 

_J: do you have a dog?_

_Del: i have a cat._ _Her full name is Countess Ada Lovelace_

_J: That’s a mouthful_

_Del: yep but I call her Ada or AdaBear. She is the most perfect cat to ever cat._

_Del: She lives with my parents for now, but I might try to sneak her into my no-pets allowed apartment. Shh, don’t tell._

_J: your secret’s safe with me_

_J: my friend’s dog lives with him and he’s technically not allowed pets either_

_J: I think it’s because the landlord is too busy being distracted by shiny things to notice_

_Del: your secret’s safe with me_

* * *

 

Riding the high from his latest conversation with Del, Bucky happily shuffled around his kitchen. He made himself a bowl of oatmeal and even treated himself to some spoonfuls of brown sugar on top.

Afterwards, his belly was full, and he was warm and content. The entire day stretched ahead of him and he found that he wasn’t dreading it. He’d go for his run and he had a training session scheduled but after that, he could do anything for the whole day. Maybe he’d ask Steve if he wanted to grab lunch later. Then he thought briefly of how Sam defended him the night before and thought he’d invite him, too. Maybe he’d even leave the facility to go to the library. He knew how to use Wikipedia and Google, but there was nothing quite like holding physical books, the actual information, in his hands.

He shrugged on a jacket, laced up his running shoes, and fitted his cap on his head.

He opened the door of the apartment, and there it was.

On _his_ doorstep this time.

The damned fruitcake.

Still in the wrapper, looking as garishly cheerful as ever.

_“Darcy,”_ he said through clenched teeth.

 

* * *

 

Darcy lived for little moments like this. Just her and Jane in the lab, her “Paperwork Playlist #3” softly playing – and okay yeah – they were catching up on dreaded paperwork on a Saturday but she liked it just the same.

The lab was quiet, most everyone having gone home for the weekend. Ever since she and Jane came to the facility, it seemed everyone wanted a bit of their time. It almost made her wish for the cramped van in New Mexico again, just her and her bestie and Erik. Almost.

“Do you have the supplement to form 23A-R?” asked Jane, flipping through a sheaf of papers.

“Yep,” she answered. She pulled open her desk drawer.

Then screamed.

“What? What?!” Jane cried, and came around to Darcy’s desk where she was staring in horror at the thing in the drawer.

“That – that _jerkface!_ ” Darcy screeched. She reached in, gingerly pulled it out with both hands, and placed it on her desk, where it landed with a heavy _thump._

Jane tilted her head. “It’s a fruitcake,” she said flatly. “Why are you screaming about fruitcake?”

Darcy stood, went over to the coat stand and hastily slung her messenger bag over her shoulder. She rather brutally shoved the packaged cake into her bag.

“I’ll explain later, Janey, I gotta go.”

Jane’s mouth opened and closed several times until finally she managed an indignant squeak.

“You’re just gonna leave me here? With The Evil?!” She waved her hand at the pile of papers on her desk.

Darcy, already at the door, half-jogged back and pressed a hasty kiss to her friend’s forehead. The astrophysicist huffed, unconvinced.

“Promise I’ll make it up to you. Margaritas tonight? And we’ll watch whatever you want!”

“Fine,” Jane conceded, still eyeing the cellophane package peeking out of Darcy’s bag with suspicion. “But we’re using the good margarita mix! And we’re watching _The Christmas Prince!”_

“Ugh –”

“Evil paperwork!” reminded Jane, pointing a highlighter pen at her menacingly. “On a Saturday.”

“Fine.”

Jane smiled and nodded, once. “Cool. Tell Barnes I said ‘hi’!”

 

* * *

 

“Shit. I can’t hang out with you guys anymore,” Clint groused. He rubbed a hand over his bicep then pulled his t-shirt back on. Even in the steam of the locker room Bucky could see that his teammate was going to have one hell of a bruise later.

“Aw, c’mon Bird Dude, don’t we have fun together?” Sam smiled, opening up his locker.

“Y’know, you can’t call me that if you have a bird-themed callsign, too.”

Sam shrugged and turned to Bucky. “Hey, man, you up for dinner tonight? We’re gonna try and see if Vision likes chicken wings.”

“…Does Vision eat?” Bucky asked.

“Well, no, but he can tell us if he likes the _concept_ of chicken wings.”

Bucky paused for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Yeah?” Sam said. “Cool.”

Bucky didn’t miss the surprise and happiness in Sam’s answer, despite the other man’s attempt to mask them with a casual response.

He usually turned down offers to hang out. He was still getting used to the rhythm of comradery, of friendship. He’d been with the Avengers for months, yet still most of his first instincts was to hold himself apart from them. He knew he should try, though. Steve and his therapist and even Vision had encouraged him to do so.

And if you couldn’t listen to a mauve android in the 21st century, who could you listen to?

He ran his towel over his hair, pulled his locker open, and then –

“ _FUCK_.”

From beside him, he heard Clint’s puzzled, “What – ”

Sam and Clint stood behind Bucky peering into his locker. There, amongst his rumpled clothes, some towels and errant water bottles was a cake.

_The_ cake.

The cake that was now caved in a bit on one side. The wrapper was wrinkled. The once cheery bow was now limp.

“Is that a - ”

“The goddamned _cake,_ ” Bucky growled.

He hastily dressed, then took said cake out of his locker with his metal hand. He scowled down at it and stiffened his spine, pulling himself up to his full height.

Immediately, the presence in the room was slightly less Bucky Barnes and a little more 6-foot former Cold War assassin.

Clint grimaced, realization dawning. “Aw, Lewis, no.”

“Shit. We don’t wanna be in the middle of this, man,” Sam said, casting a sideways glance to Clint. “I call for a strategic retreat.”

They both stepped aside as the Winter Soldier stormed out of the locker room, one sad-looking fruitcake under his cybernetic arm.

 

* * *

 

Darcy wrapped her scarf tighter around herself as she made her way to her car in the facility’s private Avengers garage. First things first – when she got to the mall she was definitely going to buy a warmer coat. Upstate New York was decidedly _not_ the same temperature in winter as New Mexico, or even London.

She pulled open the driver’s side door, and then –

“ARGGH!”

 

* * *

 

Bucky was running late. He had meant to leave the facility to grab food with Sam and Clint and Vision but got held up at the gun range. One of the weapons guys had modded out an M249 and asked him if he wanted to test it.

Of course he did.

His shoulder was still a bit sore from the recoil but the new fire rate was fucking aces.

Striding towards his motorcycle, it was impossible to miss, sitting as it was right on the damned seat.

“Son of a -!”

 

* * *

 

Later, Darcy found the cake on her favorite reading chair in the common room.

 

* * *

 

A bit after that, Bucky found the cake in his weapons locker.

 

* * *

 

“Team Meeting,” Steve said, over his shoulder. His authoritative Cap voice matched his purposeful stride down the hallway. It all would be so much more effective if Bucky hadn’t just spent the night watching the other man cast longing glances at Nat in between bites of chicken wing.

Still, he shrugged, and followed his friend into the common room. If he was bored during the meeting (and he usually was) he could just text Del. They were currently in the middle of a game of Twenty Questions. He was supposed to come up with his Favorite Movie to Watch When You’re Down. He could think on it while someone droned on, he was sure.

But the question of why the common area was being used and not one of the more official meeting rooms in the facility was answered when he was ushered through the door.

The first thing he saw was the cake – it was unwrapped and sitting on a plate in the middle of the dining table.

Then he sighted Darcy. She was sitting behind it, at the other end of the table, frowning and looking about as excited to be there as he was.

Surrounding her stood Sam, Jane, Clint, Vision, and Nat.

He sensed movement from behind him and immediately knew that Steve was not-so-subtly blocking his exit.

Bucky immediately tensed, suspicious. “What the hell?”

“We’re putting an end to the Great Fruitcake War,” Jane answered, raising a brow.

Darcy scoffed. “This wasn’t a war. I’ll show you war,” she grumbled, arms crossed over her chest. She was looking sulkily at the cake.

Nat glanced at her and gave a half-smile. “That’s what we’re afraid of. We’re ending this now.”

“But Nat, you were on my side!” Darcy protested.

“You _what?_ ” Bucky glared at Natalia, who only looked at him bemusedly with cool green eyes.

“How do you think she got into your weapons locker?”

“ **преда́теля** **,** ” he accused. 

Nat shrugged off the venom in his tone. “It was fun at first, but…I can see now neither of you are gonna let this go.” The Widow scrunched her nose. “And that thing is getting more hideous by the minute.”

Before he knew it, a chair was being pulled out for him and he was being shoved into it like a misbehaving child.

Clint gleefully put silverware down in front of him and his stomach dropped to about his knees. He had a sinking idea about where this was going.

“Nooo,” breathed Darcy from across the table from him.

Clint smiled smugly as Sam did the same for her.

“You’re both eating the cake, then we’ll throw the thing away and this will all be over and done with,” Jane said.

Steve added, “ _At least_ three bites from each of you.” That punk looked downright gleeful.

Darcy made a face at Bucky from across the table. “This is your fault!”

“Me?! If you hadn’ta brought Nat into this, this never woulda happened!”

A chorus of groans rose from their audience. From the corner of his eye, he could see Clint and Sam roll their eyes and sigh.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Apologize, both of you. We’re all tired of seeing the damn cake everywhere.”

Several heavy beats of silence passed.

“Darcy, you start,” Sam said when it was becoming clear that neither of them were going to volunteer to go first.

“I’m sorry I compared you to a fruitcake,” Darcy mumbled, looking at the floor.

Clint chuckled, then sucked in a gasp. “Ow! Nat, don’t kick me!”

“Not just because you heard,” Darcy continued, finally dragging her eyes up to meet his. “But because it was mean.”

“Sorry I bought you a fruitcake,” Bucky said, slightly taken aback at her apology.

“Now, eat the cake,” Steve commanded, casting sharp looks at the duo sat at the table.

“Fine,” Darcy said. She picked up her fork, waiting for him to do the same. “Let’s do this.”

He took a deep breath. Better to do it all at once. Quickly, he jabbed the fork into the misshapen lump, trying very hard not to cringe when an unnaturally green candied fruit rolled out onto the plate. He shoveled two bites into his mouth.

With determination, he chewed and swallowed.

Finally, he choked down his third, and blessedly last, bite.

Vision came over to stand beside him, his movements unsettlingly smooth. He stared unblinking at him and then at the cake.

“What is it like?” Vision asked, head tilting at the disemboweled food on the plate.

“I’ve eaten canned meat. Powdered eggs.” Bucky made a face. He put down his fork and found that Darcy too, was watching him with curiosity. “And who knows what the fuck they were feedin’ me in Siberia. This?”

“…Yes?”

He answered solemnly, “This is the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.”

He hazarded a look across the table to where Darcy was biting back a grin. Then a giggle burst from her, and she was laughing, one hand over her mouth as she tried to swallow down her last bite and he found that he was joining her, his own smile breaking through when she loosed an inelegant snort.

He laughed, returning the look of mirth shining in her eyes, and leaned forward in his seat to hold a hand out to her. “Truce?”

Darcy nodded, still pink from holding back more giggles, then gently grasped his hand.

“Truce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- "преда́тель" = "traitor", at least according to Google.
> 
> \- Jane heard about the awfulness of Netflix's _The Christmas Prince_ and got curious. Have you seen it? ~~The creepiness of a corporation having info on your viewing habits aside~~ Are you one of the 53 people who watched it every day for 18 days? C’mon. You can tell me ;)
> 
> \- The next chapter is coming to you this Sunday as usual!  
> Next up:   
> _“’Would you want to meet?’_
> 
> _Five words._
> 
> _Only five words and they had him feeling like he did just before Steve suggested they zipline across a ravine and onto a moving train.”_
> 
> \- Come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **ATTENTION!! Please note that this is Chapter 4.** In case you missed it, I posted Chapter 3 on Thursday, [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12905889/chapters/29769828) !

_Del: it’s snowing it’s snowing!!_

_Del: [attached mp3: Winter Wonderland – Phantom Planet]_

_J: I like this one!_

* * *

 

 

_J: my friend says you can’t make pumpkin pie for xmas if you’ve already had it for thanksgiving_

_J: I say try me_

_Del: make whatever pies you want. Make like a shit ton of pies. Problem solved._

_J: bless you_

 

* * *

 

_Del: Operation Lovelace has commenced. Told my parents I’ll be picking the little furball up soon. Wish me luck!_

_J: good luck! Hope she likes her new digs_

_Del: me too_

 

* * *

 

_Del: o yeah if you make a pie, make your own crust if you can. Better than store bought_

_J: noted_

_Del: it’s super easy. The secret is vodka!_

_J: vodka, I have. How much?_

_Del: [link to recipe]_

 

* * *

 

_J: I don’t think I did it right_

_J: [attached file:  piedisaster.jpg]_

_Del: ???_

_Del: did u cool the crust before filling?_

_J: oh no_

_Del: oh no_

 

* * *

 

_J: I watched that movie you recommended. Don’t know if I liked it. I had weird dreams all night._

_Del: you watched “Lost Highway” before bed?!_

_Del: dude._

 

* * *

 

_Del: okay okay palate cleanser movie_

_Del: go watch Home Alone or something_

 

* * *

 

_J: Home Alone was good._

_Del: you’ve never seen it?_

_J: no_

_Del: I would love to watch it again for the first time_

_J: I liked that kid’s improvised traps and weapons._

_Del: …._

_Del: oh no_

 

* * *

 

_Del: fuuuck yeah flannel sheets._

_J: agreed._

_Del: flannel sheets in winter are the tits_

_J: the bee’s knees_

_Del: the cat’s meow_

_J: the eel’s hips_

_Del: well now you’re just making things up_

 

* * *

 

_Del: hey not b weird_

_J: but you’re gonna be weird?_

_Del: har har_

_Del: so I sort of have this image of you in my head_

_J: think about me a lot do you_

_Del: I think that you’re a youngish dude. Right?_

_Del: just please tell me you’re not Sal from Finance with the nosehairs and the 5 grandkids_

_J: I promise I’m not Sal from Finance._

_Del: Good. Because I sort of like you a lot_

There. She sent it.

She shut her eyes, opened them again and began pacing in her bedroom.

Darcy was sure she’d wear a hole into her area rug soon, so she switched to biting on a hangnail.

She wasn’t sure what was worse – the tight anticipation before sending her little confession or the way her stomach lurched when her phone notified her of his reply.

 

_J: I like you a lot, too._

“Yes!!” Darcy yelled out in victory, unable to help but pump her fists in the air. “Yes!” she exclaimed again, then for lack of anything better to do, grabbed the nearest throw pillow and screamed into it.

Her heart was still pounding a mile a minute, but she managed to type back.

_Del: Would you want to meet?_

* * *

 

Two floors up, Bucky was staring down at his own phone with a sick mixture of elation and something akin to dread.

_Would you want to meet?_

Five words.

Only five words and they had him feeling like he did just before Steve suggested they zipline across a ravine and onto a moving train.

“Fuck,” he murmured to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, tightened it in the strands. “Shit.”

So he did the only thing he could think of at the moment. He took off at a near sprint down the hall and began pounding on Steve’s door.

Steve answered it, took one look at the panic on Bucky’s face, and stepped aside.

“She wants to meet,” Bucky said simply, clutching his phone in his left hand. Already, the plates running the length of his arm were whirring warningly. He switched the phone over to his right hand, just in case.

Steve closed the door and came to lean against the kitchen island. He smiled. “That’s great, Buck!”

Buck leveled a look at his friend, whose smile then dropped. Steve’s brows knitted in concern.

“That’s…not great?”

“She’s not – she doesn’t know about…me,” Bucky said, not meeting his friend’s eyes and instead feigning interest in the wilting plant on the end table.

Steve nodded and pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “Well, you said she works here. She’s probably more…experienced with our situation than you’re giving her credit for. Right?”

Bucky grunted, and sat down heavily on the couch.

“Look, you like her don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“And…she likes you?”

Bucky held up his phone and waved it gently. “Got it in writing and everythin’.”

“So…meet her. You already know you get along. She’ll like you, pal, I know it.”                                                                                                    

Bucky slid a glance to his friend. “Can’t believe I’m getting’ advice about dames from you, Stevie.”

Steve’s amiable shrug was offset by his shit-eating grin. “Welcome to the 21st century.”

“You ask out Natalia, yet?”

The grin dissipated. Steve lightly coughed into his fist. “Well, now, this is about you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but smiled at his friend. One day, if Steve was lucky, Nat might take pity on him.

Until then…

 

_J: I’d like that very much_

_Del: Saturday at 6pm? Do you know where Matuschek’s Café is?_

_J: yes_

_Del: Good. You’ll know me cuz I’ll have a mini cactus with me._

_J: you’re funny. It’s a date._

_Del: :)_

_J: :)_

Bucky exhaled shakily as he put his phone in his pocket. He felt hot and jittery and he thought idly that he probably wouldn’t be sleeping at all tonight. Restlessly, he rubbed his sweaty palms over his knees.

“Jesus. I’m gettin’ too old for this.”

“No, you’re not.”

Bucky turned to grin at Steve. “No, I’m not.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week whizzed by. There was a little skirmish in Chicago and afterwards was a flurry of debriefing, paperwork, and more training.

On Saturday, Bucky belatedly realized that his closet held more tac vests, undershirts, and various holsters than anything appropriate for a date and asked Steve for help. Steve then, much to Bucky’s chagrin, invited Nat over to help _him._

An hour later, they all discovered that while Steve’s dress shirts were a bit too long in the torso and hung a little loose at the shoulders, they mostly fit Bucky. In any case, it was too late to go shopping.

Arms full of Steve and Nat approved dress shirts, Bucky headed back to his quarters to get ready. The doors to the elevator slid open and he made to step into the car but stopped abruptly.

It was occupied. With Darcy Lewis.

He clenched his jaw. Of course.

She blinked owlishly at him and if he wasn’t mistaken, a sliver of panic washed over her features before she clutched a box in front of her protectively.

She was holding the giant cardboard box with both hands. Judging by _how_ she was holding it, it was a pretty heavy box.

“You in or out, Bucky?” she asked, impatiently.

Bucky stepped in, and jabbed the button for his floor.

When the doors closed, Darcy cast a sidelong glance at his bundle, a stack of dress shirts in various neutral colors. “What’ve you got there?”

“Nothing,” he answered quickly. Darcy craned her head to take a better peek and he subtly angled away. What he didn’t need was for her to know he was going on a date. He’d never hear the end of it.

He looked at the giant box, the way it was precariously tipping sideways despite her white-knuckled grip. “You uh, need help with that bo –“

“No!” Darcy’s eyes widened, and she adjusted her hold. “I mean. No, thank you. I’ve got it.”

Bucky pressed his lips together.

“So…what’ve you got there?” he repeated her question.

“Nothing!”

“Okay. Fine.”

“Fine.”

Darcy hugged the box closer to herself and it looked like she was concentrating very hard on how the numbers of the floors lit up.

Finally, the doors opened and Darcy scurried away giving him a, “Bye, Barnes!” as she went.

The doors slid shut behind her, and he hugged the dress shirts to his chest, slumping against the back wall.

Bullet dodged.

 

* * *

 

“How are you always running behind?” asked Jane, who was elbow deep in a pile of brightly colored dresses and skirts.

“I am not!” Darcy held up a teal pencil skirt to her waist.

Date or not, is the first time you meet someone the right time to show off your (admittedly bangin’) backside? Maybe not. Back to the pile it went.

“Hey!” Jane shook the skirt off from where it landed on her shoulder and continued pulling possible outfits aside.

“Anyways, I nearly got found out by Bucky in the elevators bringing Ada and her things up here. Then I had to get her whole set up just right. She’s very particular.” Darcy glanced at the grey tabby who was sitting and grooming her front paw, disinterestedly.

“I had a cat when I was little,” Wanda said, softly, from where she was sitting on the edge of Darcy’s bed. She produced a little red ball of light that had Ada twitching her butt and attacking in seconds. “He liked to sleep in a tattered shoebox.”

“Well, I can’t just blow all that money at Petco getting a cat tower and a fluffy bed and a drinking fountain and not use it!” Darcy protested.

The cat was a blur of grey fur as it chased the red light into a bunch of shoes, toppling a pair of ankle boots. She emerged shaking her head vigorously, the bell on her too-big collar tinkling.

“Ada!” Darcy laughed, and picked up the shoes.

She looked to Wanda questioningly and held up the black ankle boots alongside a pair of chestnut brown knee-highs.

Wanda tilted her head towards the ankle boots, and Darcy nodded, placing them to the side. Ada trotted over to sit in Wanda’s lap, accepting her chin scratches with purrs and kneading.

“You will call us when you get there?” Wanda asked.

“Yes, yes, and when the night is over.”

“If he is a – a _creep_ ,” Wanda started, running her hand through Ada’s soft grey fur. “You will tell us? We will come pick you up.”

“Oooh, no. I don’t think so, Sabrina Spellman. You’ll do something weird to him, I can feel it.”

Wanda shrugged, and idly scratched behind the kitten’s ear. “I will only make him think he has spiders under his skin. Just a little.”

Darcy was almost sure her Sokovian friend was making a joke. Maybe.

“Ah ha!” Jane held up a sweater dress in oxblood red. “This one!” she said. “Cute, a bit dressy, but not trying too hard.”

“I agree. Wear the black tights with the little boots,” Wanda added.

Darcy, whose modesty around other women vanished somewhere in New Mexico while sharing close quarters with Jane, pulled off her t-shit and leggings and donned her outfit.

She straightened out the dress, looked at herself in the mirror and slicked on another coat of lipstick.

She turned to her friends. “Well?”

“Cute!” Wanda said, smiling.

Ada looked up from her lap, ears twitching, and gave Darcy a slow blink.

“Knock him dead,” added Jane, and handed her the little potted cactus.

 

* * *

 

 Bucky stood in front of Matuschek’s trying to breathe.

For the millionth time that night, he ran his hand over the newly smooth skin of his cheek.

He honestly thought he saw tears in Steve’s eyes when his friend caught sight of his newly clean-shaven mug and his trimmed hair. But Steve only smiled and squeezed his shoulder once.

When Nat saw him she only arched a brow and said, “A vast improvement.”

He felt good when he put on the dress shirt and dark wash jeans. It was when they started heading out for the café ( _date,_ his brain told him, _your first date in about 70 years_ ) that he started feeling apprehensive. Queasy.

It still felt strange. Like he was naked, a bit. And cold. He hunched his shoulders over trying to get his grey scarf to cover the bottom half of face.

“I can’t do this, punk.” His groan was muffled by the weave of the scarf.

Steve put a large, comforting hand on his back. “Of course you can. She’s just a girl. And you both already get along so well. Don’t think I don’t notice that you text her during meetings,” Steve joked.

Bucky smiled weakly. He did some breathing exercises he was recently taught, and watched as plumes of his breath formed and dissipated into the chilly night air.

He checked his watch. Again.

He rubbed at his cheek. Again.

Hesitantly, he turned to his friend. Steve was similarly bundled against the cold night, with the addition of a knit cap pulled low over forehead. “Steve, can you –”

“You want me to take a look?”

Bucky let out a relieved breath. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Steve went to stand at the window, just a bit hidden by a perfectly manicured shrub.

He stayed there for quite some time, squinting hard, face illuminated by the white-orange glow from the lights inside the café.

Bucky didn’t bother to hide the impatience in his tone. “Well?”

“Huh.”

“What? What is it?”

“She’s supposed to have a plant with her?” Steve confirmed, still craning his neck to look inside.

“Yeah, a cactus, she said.”

Steve turned to him, one blond eyebrow quirked.

“It’s a…private joke.”

“Hm.”

“Alright, out with it, is she in there or not?”

“There’s a woman…”

“Alright…”

“She has a…cactus…”

“Yes!”

But Steve. Steve had an odd look on his face. Something halfway between a hopeful smile and a grimace that he quickly tried to cover up by examining the chalkboard sign on the sidewalk. That man was never a great actor.

“Is she – is she beautiful?”

It was not that he was shallow, but just as she admitted to him, he _had_ built up an image of Del in his mind. Nothing concrete. Pretty smile, nice hair. Just…pretty.

Steve nodded, still not meeting his eyes.

“I knew it!” Bucky exclaimed more to himself than anyone else. At his outburst, a passing couple glanced at him then quickly turned away. He grinned, feeling triumphant in a way, but Steve still had that pained look on his face.

“Say, you think Darcy’s cute, don’t you?”

Bucky jerked his head at the rapid detour the conversation was taking.

“Sure, who wouldn’t?” His eyebrows knitted. “What’s she got to do with anything?”

Steve sighed and watched him cautiously. “Darcy’s the one in the coffee shop.”

“…What.”

“Darcy. She has the cactus. She’s the one in the shop.”

On leaden feet, Bucky went to occupy the space Steve had before in front of the coffee shop.

Sure enough, Darcy ( _Del, oh god, oh Jesus)_ was sitting at a table sipping at a little porcelain cup. A tiny potted cactus was next to the container of creamer.

Darcy was Del.

Del was Darcy.

He talked to Del/Darcy about Darcy/Del.

A million questions raced through him at once - all variations on ‘how?’

She looked so sweetly hopeful with her hair falling in soft waves around face, not knowing that the man she was waiting for was _him._

This was just the cruel thing fate would throw in his face. His first date since the last century, with a woman he was admittedly dizzy over, and she turned out to be Darcy Lewis.

The woman who, he was quite certain, didn’t even like him very much.

“Buck,” Steve said in a warning tone, after he stood there for what felt like a hundred years. “You know you can’t just leave her in there.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky grumbled, stepping away from the window. “Just…give me a minute.” He winced and threaded his hand through his hair that was trimmed just for this occasion. “Jesus,” he wheezed, feeling stupid, feeling confused, feeling…far too much.

He looked in the window again. She was still there. There could be no mistake that it was her. Other tables were occupied with couples or groups of friends. She was the only single table, and the only table with a cactus ( _“I hereby downgrade you from ‘mean’ to ‘prickly’” -_ god, how he’d smiled at her playful jibe at him), she was the woman he’d been messaging, joking, flirting with this whole time.

“Are you…okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. You go on back, pal, I’ve got this,” Bucky assured Steve, although he didn’t feel like he had it at all. In fact, he felt like the snow-dusted sidewalk and the cobblestone street and all of the shops lining it were going off-kilter.

Steve took off, but not before glancing warningly between him and the café.

Bucky puffed out an irritated breath.

Message received, Rogers.

He adjusted his scarf and exhaled.

He waited for Steve to be out of sight.

Then he walked across the street.

Bucky wandered around the area for a while, disinterestedly looking in shop windows and restaurants, trying and failing not to think about Darcy Lewis. He didn’t know exactly what his plan was, and so he just blended in with the crowds of with holiday shoppers and people meeting friends and loved ones for dinner.

Eventually, he found himself in front of Matuschek’s again. He shoved his gloved hands into his pockets, clenched and unclenched them anxiously.

When he peeked inside, he was a little surprised to see that she was still at the table.

It’s _Darcy_ , he thought to himself. Darcy who sent him recipes, who sent him songs he liked, who traded cheesy jokes with him while he killed time during dreary meetings.

Darcy who was waiting.

For him.

With his shoulders squared and his chin jutted up, he marched up the café and pushed open the door.

 

* * *

 

At 10 minutes past 6pm, Darcy was still not panicking. She, herself, was constantly running behind so she tended to give people the benefit of the doubt. She busied herself with ordering a lovely caramel latte and a croissant while she waited.

At 30 minutes past 6pm, Darcy had to admit that he was late. Her croissant lay uneaten, but shredded to bits on the plate.

By the time J was an hour - a full agonizing hour – late, Darcy had sipped her way through her caramel latte, an Americano, and was currently nursing a decaf green tea. She hoped it would be calming after all that caffeine, but all it made her want to do was use the restroom. But she was hesitant to leave her seat in case J came while she was away.

She was idly poking at the cactus’ spines, wondering if she should text J again, when the bell above the doors chimed. She couldn’t help but let her heart leap hopefully despite the fact that in the past hour the people passing through included a woman pushing a stroller, two older ladies laden down with shopping bags, and a group of chattering teenagers.

She locked eyes with him from across the room.

She almost didn’t recognize him at first, but those blue eyes and the curve of his smirk was familiar.

Painfully familiar.

It was Bucky Barnes, except now he was clean-shaven, looking more like the young man she and her friends drew hearts around in their history textbooks than the surly guy brought in from Wakanda.

And he was walking towards her table.

_No no no, not this._

She was going to be sick.

Hurriedly, she picked up the café menu and hid her face behind it, hoping he didn’t spot her. She ventured a peek over it, and yes, that was Barnes who was still headed her way.

She cursed every deity along with every single Asgardian alien she knew for measure.

When he was finally standing at her table, tall and aggravatingly handsome in a black jacket and knit scarf, the first thing out of her mouth was, regrettably, “You shaved.”

He arched a brow. “Hello, Darcy. I did.”

“Can I get you anything?” the waitress who materialized tableside asked him.

“He’s not staying!” Darcy said firmly at the same time Bucky said, “Large coffee, please.”

The waitress, immune to her distress, nodded and left.

Then to her absolute horror, Bucky pulled out the chair across from her and began to sit.

“No. Nope.” Darcy shook her hand and yanked the menu he’d begun to pick up out from his hand. “Absolutely _not._ You can’t sit here.”

“Lewis, there’re no other seats,” he protested, and (maddeningly, annoyingly) settled into the chair, unwinding his scarf and unzipping his jacket.

“What are you even doing here?”

“Can’t a man drink a coffee?”

“ _Here?_ ”

Bucky shrugged. “Heard the place was nice.” He looked around, at the dark wood of the tables and chairs, the fairy lights strung up along the windows, the poinsettias and decorative berries set out just for the holidays.

“You can’t be here,” Darcy repeated, beyond frustrated now.

Of all the days, of all the coffee shops, why this one? Why couldn’t the universe let her have this one thing?

From across the table he cast her an assessing look. “Why not, are you – ” then his eyes widened.

Darcy slumped in her seat and groaned into her hands.

“You waitin’ on someone, Darcy?”

She grit her teeth. “Yes. If you must know.”

“Who?”

“Someone. A guy,” she answered, and rubbed the hem of her skirt between her fingers.

“Jesus, you’ve never even met him, have you? This a blind date?”

“Go away, Bucky.”

But Bucky only made a show of swiveling his head around and searching the faces of the other patrons. The café door swung open, bringing with it a gust of chilly wind and an ancient looking gentleman with a greying beard and a puffy red coat.

Bucky barked out a laugh and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “It ain’t Santa over there, is it?”

Darcy glowered into his smiling face. “No, it’s not! Now please leave!”

“Your large coffee, sir,” interrupted the waitress. She set his drink in front of him and left before Darcy could tell her that he’d be taking it to-go.

Darcy stared daggers at stupid Bucky Barnes while he leisurely brought his stupid coffee to his lips, blew on it, and sipped.

“ _Move,_ ” Darcy hissed, leaning across the table so as not to disturb the other customers. “If he sees you here, he won’t know it’s me.”

“Oh, but I bet he will. You’ve got this, this –” and before she could move it out of the way, he was holding the tiny potted plant in his hand. “Cactus. Haven’t you?” He turned it slightly, studying it from all angles.

“Give that back, don’t you touch it.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” He placed it on the table and slid it back towards her with an index finger. She cupped it protectively with both hands this time.

Bucky leaned back to look at the clock display above the espresso bar. When she followed his gaze and bit her lip, he raised his eyebrows knowingly. “Is he late?”

“He’s on his way,” Darcy grumbled, shifting in her seat.

Bucky scoffed. “What kind of chump keeps a lady waiting on a date?”

“He’s not a chump!” Darcy placed both her hands on the table palms down. She calmed her breathing and looked at Bucky pleadingly. “Please leave. Please?”

“Alright.” He nodded once, took his drink, rose from the table and began walking away.

Darcy let out a sigh of pure relief and let herself relax a little.

But she’d jumped the gun.

There was rustling and movement behind her. The sound of a chair being pulled out.

She turned around to see that Bucky was already looking at her with amusement.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What? The seat freed up. And I haven’t finished my coffee.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Darcy turned her eyes back to the door, determined to ignore the presence behind her. She checked her phone for the millionth time, stomach sinking when there were still no new messages for her.

“Why are you still waitin’ on this guy, Darcy? How late is he now?”

“I’m still waiting for him, because I know him and I know he wouldn’t keep me waiting unless there’s a good explanation for it.”

“You _know_ him? You’ve never met him.”

“I know he’s kind. And smart. And funny. And he tells the dumbest, cheesiest jokes that I can’t help but laugh at anyways. He likes dogs, he bakes pies – kind of badly, but he bakes pies. He makes me smile. I like him. A lot.”

“And for that you’re willing to put on that pretty dress, get dolled up, and wait while he’s an hour late.”

It was a statement not a question. Darcy heard the lilt of mockery he’d woven into it and it made red cloud her vision.

Who did he think he is? She didn’t even want him there! There she was having what was turning into an increasingly humiliating evening and Bucky Barnes and his dumb face just popped up out of nowhere to make it worse, making her feel like a silly little girl with a crush.

A flush spread over her face. Despite J not being there, she felt the strength of his words of encouragement.

“Yes,” she said, as she rounded on Bucky, eyes flashing. “Yes, I’m willing to do all of that because he’s nice and kind and you know what Bucky Barnes? He’s certainly the opposite of _you_.”

“Now wait just a damn minute – ”

“Bucky Barnes who can’t be bothered to hang out with the people he’s lucky enough to call his friends. Who grumps around the facility like he doesn’t want to be there, like he doesn’t even _like_ anyone there.  Do you even care about anything else that’s not knives, or guns, or beating the shit out of people?”

The second the words left her mouth, Darcy knew it was the absolute wrong thing to say.

The first clue would be that huge stone she felt settle in her stomach.

The second was the lump that formed in her throat. She tried to breathe around it, but it came out as a gasp and she pressed fingertips to her lips.

Then the third. And oh, the third was the very worst, because the third was the look that came over Bucky’s face. He reddened, then his eyes – previously twinkling with humor – became closed off, _muted._

Darcy realized, with a sickening mixture of guilt and shame, that her words had hurt him.

“Bucky, I’m so – ”

Bucky coughed lightly and stood from the table so fast the remaining coffee in his cup spilled a little onto the saucer.

While Darcy tried to formulate words, any words at all that could resemble the apology she knew he was owed, he hastily pulled out some bills from his pocket and threw them onto the table.

“That’s my cue, doll,” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.

When he left, the café door slammed shut behind him.

 

* * *

_Dear Friend,_

_Are you still my friend? After tonight? I don’t know. I hope so._

_I waited for you at Matuschek’s for…a very long time. And you never showed. I don’t know why. I hope you can tell me soon._

_But while I was waiting for you someone else came by. Someone I know. Someone I don’t get along with very well. And he made me feel very…small, I guess. Ridiculous, or dumb. And I did what you’d advised me to do before, I stood up for myself._

_I said some things to him, things that only felt good for about a millisecond after I said them. My words were very cruel and ugly, and he doesn’t deserve that no matter how much we get on each other’s nerves – no one deserves what I said to him tonight. I feel awful. About that and about other things, too._

_Anyways. No matter what happens, I want you to know I’ve liked talking to you. It’s meant a lot to me._

_-Del_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- *ducks flying tomatoes* I know, I know! But, this seemed a natural place to cut off, so here we are.
> 
> \- Phantom Planet's cover of [Winter Wonderland](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEDg1qom9J4) :)
> 
> \- The next chapter will be posted a bit earlier, on Saturday the 23rd, ‘cause of holiday stuff. 
> 
> \- my tumblr is [here](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/) !


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the people in the last chapter who caught how Bucky almost gave himself away during the café conversation – good eye! You can pick up your SHIELD catsuits on your way out ;)

When Bucky returned home after that disastrous night, he sat on his bed – scarf and coat still on - for a long while, in the dark.

The silence, which he’d never minded before, was suffocating after the noise of the café. It left him with Darcy’s words, her accusations, echoing in his mind.

He felt like a fucking idiot. He shook his head.

No, he _was_ a fucking idiot.

He’d meant to go in and reveal himself, he really did. But the apprehension on Darcy’s face at his approach it just reminded him that she wanted J, not him. Something in it nicked at his ego, made him retaliate by riling her up again.

_“What kind of chump keeps a lady waiting on a date?”_

Well, he was that kind of chump, apparently. He was also the kind of man who teased someone when she was very obviously already miserable.

Disgusted at himself, he unwound the scarf from his neck that was feeling more like a noose, and shrugged off his jacket. He flung both items in the direction of the corner of his room.

He let out a breath and steeled himself.

This somehow felt even worse than it did before he went into the coffee shop.

He could do this.

With dread, he thumbed on his phone.

Shame washed over him at the notices of unread messages from Del ( _Darcy_ ). And even though he made himself only skim them, he still felt ill afterwards. They were of course all asking him where he was, if he was on his way.

But the very last one made his chest tight and his stomach churn.

 

_Del: I’m going home. Goodnight._

Sometime in the night – he couldn’t be sure what time – he got her email.

He made himself read it, the whole thing, every word.

After that, he lay in bed for hours, staring up at the ceiling.

 

 

Bucky avoided her for as long as he could, enduring all of Steve’s extremely judgey disappointed-Papa looks all the while.

He knew he’d have to see her eventually, but when he did it was on a regular Wednesday night, and he was caught completely off-guard.

There was a bundle on the common room couch, and when it began it move he realized that the bundle was Darcy who had covered herself one of Ms. Potts’ soft chenille blankets.

Darcy sat up at the sound of someone approaching, and when she saw him she let out a tired sigh and shrugged off the blanket.

She was wearing sweatpants and that jacket he’d ragged on her for a while back. She adjusted the messy bun on top of her head, folded up the blanket and draped it over the arm of the couch.

Like a moron, he stood by and watched mutely.

“Come by and annoy me later, okay? Now is not a good time,” Darcy said in a voice that was small and soft and so unlike her.

When she brushed by him, he could see that her eyes were rimmed with red, her face blotchy.

Here she was upset and distressed, and he couldn’t even man up to return her email? To apologize for the way he spoke to her that night?

He was thinking about whether he should follow Darcy out (would she even want to talk to him?) when Jane walked in.

“Darce! Are you – ” but Darcy passed her friend by too, only giving the astrophysicist’s arm a squeeze.

Jane whirled to him, glaring accusingly, and he reeled back a little.

“What. Did. You. Do.”

“I – ” Didn’t do anything? That wasn’t right, because he _did,_ he fucked this up, he made Darcy cry. He’d ruined her evening, hell, he’d ruined more than that.

“If I may, Dr. Foster,” interjected Vision, who had rather alarmingly materialized through the wall. “Sergeant Barnes was only in here for a minute when Darcy left. It doesn’t appear that he’s…provoked her in any way,” he explained.

“Hm. Listen.” She turned to him, her lips pressed together tightly, and placed a hand on her waist. “Darcy’s had a rough couple of days so maybe cool it with…whatever you guys do, okay?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. Of course,” he answered, faintly, already mentally preparing things to say to Darcy.

He left and rushed to his computer before his determination could leave him.

Unfortunately, once he had the keyboard under his fingers, the words wouldn’t come.

In his room, he sat and stared at the blank, white square on his screen. The cursor blinked at him expectantly, mocking his complete lack of courage.

 

_Dear Del,_

_I’m sorry. I had a meeting I couldn’t leave._

Bucky scrubbed his hands over his face and let out a pained groan.

No. That was the shittiest excuse he’d ever heard. With a grunt, he jabbed the backspace key repeatedly, feeling at least a little satisfaction with the repetitive clicking noises.

 

_Dear Del,_

_I’m sorry. I was out of town._

Well, that was even worse.

Bucky rolled his eyes ceilingward and leaned back in his chair.

What could he possibly say to her that would make everything right again?

An honest apology would be a good place to start. After that, the words came, as halting as they were.

 

_Dear Del,_

_I’m sorry._

_I can only ask that you forgive me for not being there for you, when it seemed that you needed a friend the most._

_Everyone says things they regret when they’re angry or provoked. I’m sure whoever you said those things to deserved it._

_This was my fault. You were expecting to see someone you trusted, and you met the enemy instead._

_I hope that one day I can explain what happened._

_Until then, I’m still here._

_Your friend,_

_J_

 

* * *

 

“That’s it?” Wanda scrunched her face, unimpressed. “Just ’I’m sorry’? No explanation?”

Darcy shrugged with forced nonchalance from her place on her couch, the movement jostling Ada on her lap who let out a soft, peeved, ‘ _mrew’_. She continued flipping through their movie selection.

After a couple days of ice cream eating and moping and checking her phone obsessively, she’d resolved to be okay about it. No more crying and being despondent.

What happened, happened. She could do no more than move forward. Moving forward meant acceptance and also a movie night with her friends.

Wanda crossed her arms over her chest, bracelets jangling. “I only wish we knew who he was. I am telling you, spiders under the skin.”

“Wanda!”

Jane hollered out from where she was pouring the wine in Darcy’s kitchenette, “I’m with Wanda on this one.”

And for the first time in what felt like a long time, Darcy laughed. “Jane!”

Darcy could see the relieved smiles on her friends’ faces when they turned to her. She rolled her eyes.

“C’mon ladies, what’re we watching tonight?”

Wanda leaned her head on Darcy’s shoulder. “ _Gone Girl_?”

Jane positioned herself on Darcy’s other side and placed the glasses of Riesling on the coffee table. “ _Basic Instinct?_ ”

 

* * *

 

Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, and Glamour Magazine’s Woman of the Year 2016, was wearing reindeer antlers. It should have clashed with her immaculately tailored Thakoon sheath dress, but through some sort of Potts Magic, it worked.

“Remember,” Pepper announced, as she shook the incredibly tacky Santa head shaped bowl. “Price limits for gifts is $25 – ”

Tony put down the cocktail shaker to interrupt, “But what if – ”

“ _Twenty-five,_ ” reiterated Pepper, the antlers wobbling with the force of her words.

Darcy snuck a photo of a festive Pepper Potts. “This is so going on Instagram,” she giggled.

Sam put his beer down to lean over and watch her layer a filter on Pepper’s photo.

“Nice,” he laughed. “But don’t even think about putting me on there. I know where you live, Lewis.”

She turned to him and feigned big innocent eyes. “Aww, but I’ve got an elf hat that has ‘Sam’ written all over it!”

“Stick one on Barnes. That’ll be fuckin’ funny. The Winter Elf!”

Darcy blinked, her stomach getting a weird twitchy feeling.

“Oh. Uh. Maybe,” she mumbled, sneaking a glance at Bucky who was sitting silently next to Steve in the corner.

Darcy had done a pretty good job of avoiding Bucky altogether, not counting that one sort of embarrassing moment where he caught her crying on the common room couch.

While she watched everyone go up to the Santa bowl, Darcy thought about how in the future emotional breakdowns should be reserved for her rooms. She was sure her cat wouldn’t judge her for runny mascara and a red nose.

Eventually, it became her turn. Darcy reached into the bowl then smiled at the little paper in her hand that read, ‘Natasha’. She knew exactly what to get the Widow.

Stuffing the scrap of paper into her pocket, she wandered over to Jane and Bruce who were chatting by the window. About something work-related, she guessed, going by the way Bruce was moving his hands expansively and Jane was nodding and typing notes on her phone.

When she hazarded a peek at Bucky, his head was bent low in conversation with Steve and Natasha. She was staring for so long that when he stiffened and turned around, Darcy had to jerk her gaze away. She turned to Jane to cover her tracks. No one ever said she’d make a very good spy.

“I’m gonna head back, I think,” Darcy said. The other girl frowned, concerned. She knew her friends wanted her to be festive and upbeat, and to be fair she did think she’d be up for hanging out tonight. But seemingly out of nowhere she’d be hit with the fact that someone she really liked stood her up on a date and just like that her good mood was ruined.

She was sure that if she stayed she would suck the fun right out of the gathering anyways.

“Are you sure? Pepper says there’s going to be hot chocolate.” Jane’s voice was a little overly chipper. “You know she’ll use the good stuff. Ghirardelli, Darcy!”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m kind of tired. Have fun, guys.”

Jane gave her arm a comforting squeeze and turned back to her conversation with Bruce.

Darcy thought she was being sneaky. She picked the exact time that Clint and Nat and Tony all began arguing over which holiday movie to watch, and everyone else were engrossed in their own pockets of conversation.

When she thought the group was sufficiently distracted, Darcy quietly made her retreat.

She was at the door, though, when Barnes sidled up beside her.

Bucky had his hands in his pockets and was eyeing her cautiously. She inwardly winced - if she hadn’t said those awful things to him he wouldn’t be looking at her like he was expecting a verbal sock in the jaw.

His hair was tousled messily, like he’d ran his hand through it several times.

“Listen, Darcy. I – ”

“Heyy! Look who’s under the mistletoe!” shouted Stark, hands cupped around his mouth like a bullhorn. He cackled while trying to catch the eyes of everyone in the room. “C’mon guys, you know the drill!”

With a sinking feeling, Darcy slowly dragged her eyes upwards. Hanging in the doorway above her and Bucky was a little bundle of deep green mistletoe tied with red ribbon.

She was going to _kill_ Stark.

She was going to kill Stark and help Jane build a time machine to go back and kill the person who invented mistletoe.

She wanted to give Bucky an out, she really did. But she was also determined to show him that she was not the same crying mess he’d found in the common room the other day. That she was unaffected, casual. So with a bit of effort, she looked him right in the eyes.

“Well?” she asked expectantly, her question much braver than she felt. She nearly jumped as the pink of his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip.

But Barnes was watching her strangely and when she felt his gaze on her face, she flushed.

In the silence of the room, Bucky took a step closer to her, those grey-blue eyes on hers all the while. He loomed over her, and she had to crane her neck back a little. He was so close that she caught the faintly spicy scent of his aftershave, saw the stubble he’d let grow back in along his jawline.

“Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya,” he rasped, and in a flash, he leaned down to brush his lips at the corner of her mouth.

Although it lasted for only a second, two at most, Darcy was unable to ignore how the warmth of him seeped beneath her sweater and into her bones, how his breath fanned over her cheek before his lips were soft and silky on her skin.

He pulled back and she watched him stride away over the good-natured hooting and hollering of their audience.

 

* * *

 

"'Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya?'” Bucky mentally repeated to himself as he made his way to his quarters. “ _Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya?!”_

Sometimes, he wondered if he should let Steve clock him over the head with that damned shield. Of all the things to say to a pretty girl under the mistletoe.

It was just that he was caught completely unprepared.

(Again. That seemed to happen a lot with Darcy.)

He’d only wanted to ask to speak with her later. To apologize. Explain. Grovel. Whatever.

Then they were under the mistletoe and there was pink blooming across her cheeks and he was wondering what she would do if he fulfilled the challenge he saw in her eyes.

But he couldn’t do it.

Not when she still thought that he and J were separate people, and that he didn’t knew she was Del.

That was…that was false pretenses, wasn’t it?

God, he didn’t want it to be. He wanted it to be simple.

He wanted to kiss the girl who made him laugh, and made him watch movies and demand he tell her about them the next day. He found that he also wanted to kiss the girl who pranked him as good as she got, who always had a sassy word for him, who treated him not like a delicate flower or a monster to be cautious around, but a regular person.

He could show her that he and J were the same – that he was also kind, and funny, and sweet and all those qualities she accused him of lacking.

Bucky unclenched his palm to stare down at the crumpled paper on which ‘Darcy’ was scribbled.

Darcy wanted J, not him, but he could show her – he _would_.

 

* * *

 

Darcy was sitting on her bed, leaning back against her numerous pillows. She closed the window on her laptop on which she’d been streaming some sort of home renovation disaster reality show. Watching other people deal with leaky pipes, and city building codes, and electrical fires was a good distraction from her own J-Related-Drama.

Her own fretting about why a guy wasn’t writing her back seemed small compared to the disaster that was one couple’s damaged sewer line and MIA contractor.

Still, she couldn’t help thinking about him. She didn’t think she was ever going to get a good reason out of him no matter what his promises were. They’d just write or text each other and maybe that was fine. Plenty of people in history were lifelong penpals weren’t they?

Okay. Okay, she could do this.

She placed her laptop on the nightstand then rearranged her blanket over herself. She grinned when, like clockwork, Ada bounded in and made herself at home at the foot of the bed and began purring herself to sleep.

Hesitantly, she reached for her phone opened up the message box to J.

_Del: Hi._

 

His response took only a few moments, but she was relieved he responded at all.

_J: Hi_

 

Darcy bit her lip.

Now what? What could she even say to him? For the first time since starting this with him, she felt unbearably awkward.

Luckily, she was saved by his next message.

_J: How was Operation Lovelace?_

 

Darcy was unable to help her smile. She glimpsed over at the kitten-loaf that was Ada, who much preferred to sleep on her human’s duvet despite a fancy cat bed being available.

_Del: it was great, went off without a hitch. Almost got caught in the elevator i think, but she’s here_

_J: I’m glad. She allowed outdoors?_

_Del: Nope. Indoor only. But i hid her in my hoodie pocket and took her out to see the snow the other day._

_J: Cute :)_

 

Her breath hitched. Was _she_ cute or the cat? Was he flirting? And did she want to go back down that rabbit hole again if he was?

_J: what was the verdict?_

_Del: lol she hated it. Sniffed the air, put one paw in the snow and came back to sit in my pocket._

_J: I know that feeling_

_Del: you don’t like snow?_

_J: i don’t much like cold_

_Del: I’m okay with both. Love the snow though._

_Del: did I ever tell you I used to work in the desert?_

_J: No_

_Del: I did. And it was beautiful, except no good snowfall where we were. Not like here._

_Del: it would’ve been perfect if not for that._

_J: and no Ada either, right?_

_Del: exactly_

J then sent her a bunch of cat and snowflake emojis and just like that, she was charmed again. Darcy let out an exasperated groan at herself, then put her phone on silent and pulled her covers up, careful not to disturb Ada.

She and J were talking again.

She supposed that had to be enough.

 

* * *

 

Bucky was walking around, of all things, a Christmas market. If someone had told him, even just a year ago, that he’d be strolling along a crowded, noisy, busy place of his own volition while not also secretly armed to the teeth he would’ve guessed they were lying.

Not to say that he _wasn’t_ armed. Just. He was slightly less jumpy this time around.

He was there because the deadline for the Avengers Secret Santa was fast approaching and he still had no idea what to get Darcy.

There was so much pressure. He even thought about asking to switch with Steve at one point, but that felt cowardly and every day that passed without revealing himself to Darcy he already felt cowardly.

He passed stalls of handmade ornaments, of fresh wreaths, and homemade soaps.

Bucky stopped at the stall with the colorful soaps. There were individual bars but also baskets of premade sets, arranged attractively and tied with festive ribbon.

Would it be cheating if - ?

Screw it, he thought to himself. He’d been wandering around the market for the better part of an hour and he was getting cold as hell. He took out his phone.

 

_J: Soap sets as gifts, yes or no?_

_Del: depends_

_J: on what?_

_Del: the situation, giftee’s relationship to you._

_J: a friend, and our dept. is doing secret santa_

_Del: hard pass. soap sets are both too personal and too impersonal._

Bucky walked away from the stand before the proprietor could ask him if he needed anything.

It was at the next stall that he saw it. It sat among nearly a dozen of them, of all different sizes and themes and when he asked the seller about them, she explained that they’ve all been thrifted. Some were even vintage - collectable, although he had no idea why anyone would need a collection of them.

He picked up the one he’d been eyeing, tested the heft and weight in his hands. It was kind of beautiful despite its faded paint.

“That one?” the lady said, laughing a little, the deep lines around her eyes crinkling. “I like your sense of humor, kiddo.”

And at the nickname, Bucky’s lips quirked into a smile. He didn’t want to mention to the woman who looked like she was in her 60s that he was probably older than her parents.

He paid, and she was wrapping it carefully in layers of old newspaper then double-bagging it for him when he started to get second thoughts.

It had made him think of her and wasn’t that enough? No. It felt too personal somehow, too much.

Definitely too revealing. At least at this stage.

He took the package anyways, not daring to think that one day it might actually meet its recipient.

In the end, he walked several blocks over to the used bookstore whose name he’d seen emblazoned on a tote Darcy carried sometimes.

At the cash register, he asked for a $25 gift card.

It would have to do.

For now.

 

* * *

 

Darcy checked her phone once again to make sure that the Ada’s pet boarder hadn’t called with questions. She was in the facility’s garage waiting for Jane to wrangle a suitcase as big as she was into the backseat of her car. After years of helping Jane schlep lab equipment she knew that her bestie had a very particular way of packing items in the car. Darcy knew to just stay out of the way until it was safe to go in.

As she was adjusting her hold on her duffel, something was being shoved into Darcy’s line of sight.

“Here,” Bucky said, and Darcy nearly launched herself up to the ceiling.

“Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me!” Her hand flew to her chest where her heart was racing.

When she saw what he’d handed her, her eyebrows arched. It was a small plain green bag, the handles tied with a red ribbon.

“ _You’re_ my Secret Santa?!” And because the adrenaline was still rushing through her, it came out a touch more shrill than she liked.

“Looks like,” he answered simply, seemingly nonplussed. “Was gonna hand it over at the party, but – y’know.”

Darcy nodded. Pepper and Tony had a holiday cocktail party planned to unveil everyone’s Secret Santas but apparently villains had no concept of taking a holiday. The chatter that Darcy heard mentioned something about a guy who’d weaponized boomerangs, of all things. When the Avengers returned, the party had to be postponed, and Bruce had holed himself up in the labs again.

With the delay, Darcy had to place Natasha’s gift (a medovik that she’d spent an unholy amount of time on) in the fridge in a Tupperware container with her name on it.

Bucky tilted his chin towards the bag she was somewhat gingerly holding in her hands. “You gonna open it, or what?”

Darcy slid him a suspicious look, but he was just watching her expectantly, hands shoved into his jeans pockets and shoulders slightly hunched.  She pulled at the ribbon, and opened the bag, reaching in to pull out an envelope. Tucking the bag under an arm, she then eagerly ripped into the envelope.

And slipped out a gift card to Posey’s Used Books.

“Bucky!” she exclaimed with a grin. She looked up from her gift card to find him smiling back hopefully. The genuine happiness made him look years younger, impish almost. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d taken a step forward and flung her arms around his neck.

Only a beat passed before he brought his arms up around her, so she could feel the light press of his palms on her back.

She pulled away, biting down on an embarrassed smile.

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly shy. She busied herself with picking up the dropped gift bag, then slipping the gift card into her wallet.

“You’re welcome.”

“You know, I kind of thought if you were my Secret Santa…”

“…Yeah?”

“That you’d end up giving me $25 in pennies, or something.”

Bucky was taken aback. “What? I’d never – It’s _Christmas,_ I wouldn’t do that,” he insisted.

Darcy glanced away and shrugged. She reached out and began fiddling with the luggage tag on her carry-on.

“Thanks again for the gift card. I’m definitely gonna spend it once I get back.”

“You headed home for Christmas?”

“Nah. My parents are off to some swanky yoga retreat in Arizona. I’m going with Jane to London.”

Bucky nodded and shifted minutely. “Oh.”

“Are you spending it with…” Darcy trailed off, suddenly unsure if the season was sore subject.

“Yeah. Gonna stay here with Steve. Cap’s gonna make some charity appearances so someone needs to stay around and make sure it doesn’t all go to his head,” he joked with a wry smile.

“Well, have fun,” Darcy said at the same time Bucky quickly added, “Darcy, I wanted to – ”

“Darce! I’m ready for you!” Jane called out. She was standing back from the open trunk, hands on her waist and looking at her work with satisfaction.

“’Kay!” she called back. Darcy picked up her bag. “Okay, well, I’m heading out,” she said to Bucky.

But Bucky reached towards her, haltingly, then lowered his arm. He shoved his hand back in his pocket. “Wait. Please – “

Jane interrupted, “Darcy!”

“Just a minute!” Darcy said, over her shoulder to an increasingly impatient Jane. Jane threw her hands in the air, then began fussing with the bags again. She turned back to Bucky.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Bucky let out a sigh, ragged and quick, like he was irritated at himself. “For that night. You wanted me to leave you alone and I wouldn’t stop pesterin’ ya. I was bein’ an ass and I completely ruined your evening. Must’ve left my damn manners in cryo,” he joked weakly. In the ensuing quiet he cleared his throat. “So, uh. I’m sorry.”

Darcy could do nothing but blink, she was so stunned into silence.

“You’re forgiven,” she answered, after a long moment. She ducked her face, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, I wanted to apologize, too. For saying those things to you. I shouldn’t have, but I was stressed and mortified that I’d been stood up and – actually never mind, it doesn’t matter.” She brought her eyes back up to his, and nervously wrung her hands. “Just. I’m sorry, too. For being so nasty. I know you don’t only care about guns and beating the crap out of people. And you can be as reclusive as you want, okay? I mean if there’s anyone who’s earned a bit of quiet and privacy, it’s you right? Not that privacy has to be earned, what I mean is - ”

“Darcy. _Breathe,_ ” Bucky interrupted. He waited while she took a breath. “You’re forgiven,” he repeated back to her, earnestly, and with just the tiniest uptick of one corner of his mouth.

“Okay. Good,” Darcy said, and felt a relieved smile form on her face despite the awkwardness she could feel settle over them both. She still couldn’t quite believe they were having this conversation at all, much less having it while standing next to one of Stark’s Ferraris. “We’re both forgiven, then. I guess.”

“Yeah.” Bucky peered up at her from under his lashes, mischief written on his face. “’Merry Christmas, I don’t wanna fight tonight,’” he intoned, feigning seriousness.

It took a moment for it sink in but when it did, Darcy cocked her head to side, mouth slightly open in shock. “What – Did you just – Are you quoting the Ramones?!”

Bucky let out a little laugh. “I’ve been listening to newer music lately. They’re from Queens but they ain’t half bad.”

“Oh my god,” Darcy giggled, completely delighted. 

He gave her a pleased grin, one that made her nerve endings feel fizzy and hot even though it was the middle of winter and they were standing in the parking garage.

She could do nothing but return the gesture, feeling a little silly, being one of two people standing around smiling at each other like loons - but good all the same.

“Come _on_ , pokey!” Jane was already in the driver’s seat, and her voice echoed through the garage from the open window of her car. “You know those TSA lines are gonna be killer!”

Darcy let out a long sigh, squeezed her eyes shut, and resolved to play loud obnoxious music in her adjoining apartment whenever Jane and Thor were reunited again.

“I’ve really gotta – ”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Happy holidays, Darcy,” he added, voice low and soft, and reached out to take her hand in his and grasped it.

She squeezed back, once, and felt the unyielding metal of his hand under his glove.

She answered his little dimpled smile with her own.

“Happy holidays, Bucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Boomerang is a real Marvel villain. I saw him on a list of “Worst Marvel Villains” so I gave him a little shoutout here.
> 
> \- [The Ramones’ Merry Christmas (I Don’t Wanna Fight Tonight)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tN2NNwZ1op8) is one of my very favorite Christmas songs. Also, I love the idea of Bucky listening to the Ramones, idk.
> 
> \- If you’re celebrating, Happy Holidays! If you’re not, I hope you have a lovely weekend! 
> 
> \- I’m on tumblr [here](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/) !


	6. Chapter 6

_Del: Hell is empty, and all the devils are at Harrod’s Boxing Day sale_

_J: ??_

_Del: [queue.jpg]_

_J: holy shit_

 

* * *

 

_J: [skating.jpg]_

_Del: pretty! Rockefeller Center?_

_J: yes_

_Del: hope you’re bundled up_

_J: not so bad._

_J: friend gave me some Rumple Minze before._

_Del: a good friend!_

_Del: you gonna skate too?_

_J: no. I’ve never been_

_Del: maybe i’ll take you sometime_

_J: hope so_

* * *

“…So then I said to her, ‘well then I guess we’re going to Vale this year!’” Alan-something placed his hand over his paunchy belly and laughed riotously, giving Darcy a glimpse of disturbingly square, super-white teeth. She never figured out his full name – he was some sort of financial whiz supposedly, but Darcy could only deduce that he, along with his wife Sophie, came from a boatload of money and spent a whole lot of time trying to spend it.

Darcy forced out a faint laugh, and glanced at her wine glass.

She downed the rest of the rich, red wine in one gulp.

“Oh!” She interrupted Sophie mid-rant about Aspen versus St. Moritz. “I’m just going to get a refill at the bar!”

And then she took off as fast as her 4-inch Stuart Weitzmans could take her.

Tony Stark’s Winter Ball was in full swing, so she ducked elegantly dressed guests schmoozing with each other, couples on the edge of the dance floor, and waiters bearing trays of hors d’oeuvres to snake her way to the open bar. Stark, deprived of his chance to party before they’d all taken off for the holidays, immediately reserved the ballroom at a swanky Manhattan hotel for a do-over.

Whereas the Secret Santa cocktail party was supposed to be an Avengers and Friends only, low-key affair, the Winter Ball was the complete opposite. There was a band _and_ a DJ, catering, and the aforementioned open bar. Exuberant flower arrangements bloomed on every table, streamers hung from the ceiling, and there was an actual facts _lighting scheme_.

A waiter passed by with a tray of drinks and Darcy exchanged her empty wine glass for a flute of champagne.

It was probably not the best idea, considering she and Jane had only just gotten back from London the day before and she was sure that the jetlag would catch up with her eventually.

“Darcy!” someone called out, and she turned to a smiling Helen Cho who was finishing a dance with Mark, one of the geneticists. She turned to her partner, murmured something to him, and made her way over to her. Helen’s graceful movements made her silver-blue dress shimmer under the lights of the ballroom.

“Helen, you look amaaazing!” Darcy gushed, and Helen did a little turn in response.

“Why, thank you, Darcy. Or is it Dr. Lewis, now?”

Darcy let out a self-conscious huff. “Still just Darcy,” she answered.

“Sorry I missed your graduation,” Helen said, head tilted towards hers, as they hooked arms and moved to a slightly quieter edge of the party.

Darcy stuck her tongue out at her friend. “No, you’re not.”

“You’re right,” Helen admitted with a crooked smile. “I’m sorry I missed the celebration but _not_ the Doombot attack. Of all the days!”

“ _I know, right_?!” Darcy’s nose wrinkled as she thought of the acrid smell of smoke (which she  _still_ couldn’t get out of her hood and gown), of stepping through the rubble with her diploma folder in one hand while trying to guide her frightened classmate to safety.

“Were your parents okay?”

“Oh, they were fine. I mean, they were on my case that I’d be working in proximity to the madness but then during the post-battle media circus I think I caught my mom checking out Steve’s ass.”

“A woman of refined tastes,” Helen said with giggle.

Darcy held up the flute of champagne questioningly.

“Oh, I love you,” Helen said, and drank from it gratefully.

And she took the glass away from her mouth (and dress) just in time, for they were nearly mown down by a woman in deep red gown.

“Help me, help me,” Wanda gasped, eyes flitting to each of her friends’ faces. Both Darcy and Helen wobbled a bit in their heels as they reached out to steady the other girl. “I think the Senator wants to dance with me, but I saw his last partner hobble away.”

Helen craned her neck to look over Wanda’s shoulder at the ruddy-faced politician who was searching the crowd.

“We’ll protect you, Wanda,” Helen said. “In my expert medical opinion, your um…knee injury prevents you from dancing any more tonight.”

“Yes,” agreed Wanda, nodding gratefully. “I am very, very injured. I cannot possibly entertain a date tonight. Or ever.” Wanda leaned against the wall, relieved, then looked askance at Darcy. “Speaking of dates, have you heard any more of your…friend?”

Darcy playfully glared at the other girl, who in turn pretended to find the sheer sleeve of her ballgown very intriguing. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“J, who left you at the coffee shop?”

“Are you kidding me, he stood you up?!” Helen shook her head. “What an ass!”

“How did you – ”

“Jane told me,” answered Helen. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, the last conference was incredibly dull! I wanted lab gossip!”

Darcy fiddled with her drop earring, rubbing the faux pearl between her thumb and index finger. “He just – he didn’t show, okay?”

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Wanda said. At Darcy’s skeptical frown, she quickly added, “He could be a serial killer, or something.”

“Or married,” said Helen, tipping the champagne flute towards her. “God, what if he’s _married_?” She made a face that expressed exactly what she thought of married men secretly messaging other women.

“He’s not married!” His messages and photos had some sort of bachelor aura, although what did she know? She also didn’t think he’d stand her up on their date. “Maybe,” Darcy amended, and took the champagne flute from Helen to sip at it.

“In any case, he’s a huge dummy who doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” Helen said, and stroked Darcy’s arm reassuringly.

“Who, Barnes?” Natasha cut in, appearing almost out of nowhere in an incredibly slinky black dress.

“No! Darcy’s penpa - !”

“Shhh!” Wanda said, her elbowing of Helen almost comically unsubtle.

Natasha arched one perfect eyebrow. “You guys know I’m a spy, right?” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Anyways, what are you doing grouped together in the corner like it’s a middle school dance? It’s the music, isn’t it? I told Stark this guy was awful.”

“The DJ’s famous, or something,” said Wanda with a shrug.

“Because he dated a popstar once for five minutes,” Nat snorted derisively. “I’m gonna go request something actually danceable and then I’m getting all of us on that floor, okay?”

“I’m gonna go get some air,” Darcy said, the drinks she’d been imbibing all night and the crush of bodies in the ballroom getting to her. She could feel a drop sweat slide down the back of her neck despite the sleeveless, v-neck top of her dress.

“Oh, on the balcony?” inquired Natasha, head tipped slightly to the side, cat-like.

“Yeah, you guys have fun, I’ll come find you later.”

“Hm,” said Natasha, sliding green eyes towards her, assessing. “Don’t forget your wrap.”

Darcy, not-so-secretly pleased that Natasha would worry about her, grinned.

“Yes, mom,” she answered, and just barely restrained herself from booping a world class spy on the nose.

On the way to retrieve her wrap, she was nearly intercepted. She was sidestepping Pruitt and his date (Pruitt sighted her and gave a friendly nod, which she returned), when she saw the blonde, wavy hair and sparkly diamond necklace that meant Mrs. Sophie Moneybags. She had no desire to talk about ski resorts – she didn’t even know how to ski – so she hid behind a large floral arrangement of roses and anemones until the coast was clear.

On her way out, she tugged the fabric around herself and braced for the cold.

The outdoor area, though decorated with tasteful string lights and garlands of evergreens, and furnished with cushioned seats, was empty. There was only the white noise of the city and the click of her heels on the concrete as Darcy walked to the railing. She looked down and watched the traffic below disinterestedly, tracking the yellow cabs and bundled up pedestrians hurrying to their destinations. Above her, the sky was a cloudy black, the city’s lights competing with the stars she was so used to seeing the upstate facility.

A metallic thunk sounded and when she turned she was incredibly grateful for the railing on which she was leaning.

Bucky Barnes, tall and handsome in a tux with his bow tie rakishly undone about his neck, was a swoon-worthy sight.

“What’re you doin’ out here, it’s cold as fuck,” Bucky said, instead of greeting her. He eyed her admittedly flimsy wrap with a slight frown.

“Avoiding deep conversations with strangers about luxury ski resorts. You?”

“Avoiding strangers,” he answered, and began shrugging off his jacket. Without even waiting for her protest, he came over to drape it over her shoulders.

She adjusted the silky wrap so it was more like a scarf and pulled the edges of his jacket over herself. It was still warm from him and it had the same faint spice scent that took her back to the night he’d pecked her cheek under the mistletoe.

“Aren’t _you_ cold?”

“S’not so bad,” he answered with a shrug of one shoulder, and with his silver hand began loosening his bowtie until he’d pocketed it, then unbuttoned the top button of his white dress shirt.

“Well, just in case,” Darcy ventured, peeling her eyes away, and reached under her dress to pull out a flask.

“Where the hell were you keepin’ it in that dress?!” Bucky blurted, and looked so mortified afterwards that Darcy couldn’t help but chuckle.

She looked down at her fitted royal blue evening gown with the thigh high slit.

“In my garter. Got one of those novelty ones with the flask holder for my cousin’s bachelorette party,” she explained, and flipped the fabric of the dress back slightly to reveal a satiny hot pink garter wrapped around her thigh.

When she handed him the flask she saw just enough of Bucky’s expression to catch his widened eyes before he hastily turned away, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

Darcy flushed, patting the fabric back down.

Wonderful. She’d just flashed a World War II vet.

Stay classy Lewis, she chastised herself.

“You look nice, Barnes.” She surreptitiously gave him another once-over. Nice was an understatement. What he looked like would’ve made a GQ stylist weep with envy. The blasé, casual way he was wearing that tux only enhanced the effect.

The compliment was a mistake. Not because he took it badly, but because he then turned his gaze to _her_ and she suddenly found herself trying not squirm under the way he was looking at her.

“You look beautiful,” he told her, and heat bloomed across her cheeks at the sincere compliment. “I like your hairband…thing.” He gestured somewhat awkwardly with one finger at her hair.

“Oh, this old thing? Thanks!” she laughed breezily, and very gently touched the delicate silver thread and jeweled stars that were woven throughout her updo. “It’s held together with about ten thousand pins. If I lose it, it’ll be an intergalactic incident. Thor brought it with him so it’s technically on loan from Asgard.”

“I heard Thor was on-planet again. How is he?”

“Thor’s great. I guess he and Jane are on-again, so I haven’t seen him much since we got back. They’re probably off having a mad monkey boinking session as we speak.”

From beside her Bucky choked a little on the peppermint schnapps, and handed back her flask, coughing a little at the same time.

“Shit,” he croaked around a laugh, eyes slightly teary.

Darcy grinned, feeling not a little bit triumphant at being able to shock a laugh out of him. She took the flask from him and sipped it, letting the drink warm her belly.

“So they were…broken up, before?” Bucky rubbed at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned against the railing, mirroring her pose.

“Maybe? I’m just happy Jane’s happy. They work when they work, but they’re two very different people.”

Bucky was silent for a bit. He looked straight out ahead, the yellow lights of the city illuminating his profile, his expression suddenly tight and pensive.

“You don’t think that, uh, two very different people can make it?”

Darcy rolled the flask in her hands, and considered. “Well, of course they can. It just helps a lot if they’re on the same planet, y’know?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Why? You thinking about hooking up with an Asgardian?” Darcy joked, and he breathed out a laugh but said nothing.

They sat for a little while, listening to the cars go by below them and the distant sounds of the music from the party. She let him finish off the drink and really wanted to ask him if he could get drunk or if he was immune like Steve.

Suddenly, Bucky stood up a little straighter, and cocked his head to the side.

“I recognize this song,” Bucky said, voice soft and slightly far away.

Darcy strained to place the song, the jazzy horns and tinkling piano filtering out from the ballroom, but couldn’t quite. 

“It’s Benny Goodman and…Peggy Lee.” His brows were furrowed but there was a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Between them, the pinky of his right hand was tapping along with the rhythm onto the railing.

She slid her arms into the jacket resting over her, pushed up the sleeve, then nudged his shoulder with hers. “So you gonna ask me dance or what, Sarge?”

Darcy didn’t think that she, of all people, could catch the Winter Soldier by surprise but the way looked to her told her differently. For a second, she was convinced he was going to politely refuse but then he ducked his head down, smiling almost bashfully. He straightened out his dress shirt, and held out a hand to her.

She took it, grinning all the while, and was immediately drawn into dance hold.

“I’m warning you, I’m not very good at this,” she said, and hoped the faint music drifting around them would cover how breathy she sounded.

“And I’m warning _you_ that I haven’t done this since the 40s,” Bucky countered, with eyebrows raised. “So we should be even.” He tightened his hold on her waist. “C’mon, Lewis.”

She nodded and pulled back her shoulders, suddenly hyperaware of how close they were standing.

Whereas she counted herself lucky to remember how to shuffle through the moves for a basic box step, Bucky was guiding them across the balcony smoothly like he’d never stopped taking the pretty dames to dancehalls.

He didn’t seem to mind, though, if her movements were jerky or if she stepped on his toes (four whole times, but she was blaming it on wearing open-toed shoes in the cold). Bucky even dipped her once, and she let out a surprised but happy yelp when she found herself bent down with his strong arm along her back.

He spun her just as the horns were swelling, and the night air was cold against her face and legs, their surroundings whizzing by her in a swirl of twinkle lights and the swingy notes of the music.

The song ended, and they slowed to a stop, both breathing a little harder with the effort.

The music was shifting into something more modern with thumping bass, but Bucky lifted his arm so she could twirl under it again. So she did, spinning on the balls of her feet, her dress swishing at her ankles. He gently pulled her back against him and she rested a hand over his chest, still giddy and slightly dizzy.

A strand of dark hair fell over his forehead and Darcy’s belly clenched with the thought that at that moment, he looked almost unbearably handsome. She wanted so badly to reach up and sweep it off his face, but settled for poking him playfully on his bicep and smirking.

“Y’know, you’re pretty fun to hang out with when you’re not being a little shit.”

He laughed, and their closeness meant that she felt the rumble travel through her body as well.

“Yeah, you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The song that Darcy and Bucky dance to is [Winter Weather](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EG9DA-dSu8Y) (1941) by Benny Goodman and Peggy Lee.
> 
> \- I’ll see all of you beautiful people in 2018! My tumblr is [here](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/) !
> 
> \- In the next chapter:  
>  _ **“James.”** She said his name with a firmness that guilted him into dragging his gaze to her. The concern softened the impassive mask Natalia usually wore, and suddenly she wasn’t the Widow but a friend. She continued, her voice low and stern, “Defuse this. Before it blows up in your face.”_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take into consideration that during writing this I attended the Google School of Medicine!

“What –“

“ _Hrgk!”_

“Did – “

_“Uuugh!”_

“I – “

_He was panting, and his fingers scrabbled for purchase on the mats._

“Tell. You _.”_

Bucky, his punches blocked or dodged and his own momentum used against him, was lying on his stomach on the gym mat with Nat’s arm around his neck and her knee jammed against his spine.

He grumbled out an irritated, impatient sound.

She tightened her arm, warningly.

“You told me to tell Darcy that I’ve been the one writin’ her,” he answered, and his words were followed by shallow puffs of breath that the Widow so generously allowed.

The vice around his neck was loosened and almost instantaneously he could take a full breath again. Black spots momentarily swam across his vision.

Gracefully, Nat pushed herself up from the floor, brushing her hands together.

“You had the perfect opportunity. You had _several_ perfect opportunities. Why didn’t you?”

In one quick movement, Bucky turned over and shoved himself upright. He rolled his neck with a series of cracks.

“I’ve got the situation under control.”

“You don’t.”

“I taught you that move,” Bucky grunted, irritably.

“All the more reason you should have seen it coming,” she retorted, one corner of her lips quirked up.

There was a momentary silence where she waited for him return to their main subject. He was mulishly tightlipped, so Nat placed her hands on her waist and glared at him while he pretended not to notice that she was glaring at him.

“ _James_.” She said his name with a firmness that guilted him into dragging his gaze to her. The concern softened the impassive mask Natalia usually wore, and just as suddenly she wasn’t the Widow but a friend. She continued, her voice low and stern, “Defuse this. Before it blows up in your face.”

And with that she tightened her ponytail, turned away, and walked out of the gym.

 

* * *

 

On a weekend in early January, it snowed again in upstate New York. There was some good coverage and the constant cold temperature after the initial storm kept the snow from melting into a muddy sludge the next day.

White settled on the branches of the evergreens and pines surrounding the facility. The lawns and fields were covered with layers of snow that glittered in the sun.

There was only one thing to do.

Team Cap was Bucky, Darcy, Pepper, Vision, Helen, and Bruce.

Team Iron Man was Jane, Sam, Wanda, Thor, Tony, Clint, and Natasha.

Darcy, bundled up against the cold, idly wondered how she got roped into the whole thing when her idea of outdoor winter activities consisted of sledding and snowman building, not entering a fight surrounded by people who regularly went up against robots and mad scientists and monsters.

Steve was giving out orders and plans of attack with the calm authority of someone used to being listened to in the field. He was dressed in a plain black coat with the scarf Bruce got him for the Secret Santa, but he might as well have been wearing the suit with the white star on the chest.

“You can’t use your powers. We’re going by the honor system here, so if you’re hit three times you’re out,” Steve said.

Darcy breathed a sigh of relief that powers were banned from the game. Wanda was on the opposing team, after all, and who could hope to win against a woman who could telekinetically throw dozens of snowballs at once?

Pepper, who had been listening politely the entire time, said, “You’re taking this remarkably seriously, Steve.”

Steve raised a brow and answered wryly, “Am I?” Then he pointed over to the little group huddled by Tony, who was using a stick to sketch something out in the snow.

Stark straightened, turned to their group and called out, “Hey! No peeking, cheating cheaters!”

Darcy certainly wasn’t going to take the whole thing as seriously as Steve and Tony. So, once everyone fanned out she trudged over the most pristine swath of snow she could find and prepared to make a snow angel for an Instagram post. Maybe mix things up after the series of Ada photos she’d been posting lately.

A good plan, she thought, until something cold and wet and heavy smacked her right on the ass.

She whirled around to the sound of a familiar guffaw and a blue coat ducking behind a pine tree.

“Et tu, Jane Foster?!” she called out, to the sound of more laughter and another, slower snowball being thrown at her. It missed her by a mile, but she pocketed her phone and booked it behind the nearest tree anyways.

She only had two more hits left, and it was _so_ on now.

Giggling, she leaned down, plunged her hands into the snow and began making her own snowball. There were the sounds of shouting and more laughter in the distance while she waited for someone on the other team she could target.

She watched with glee as Pepper pelted Tony in the arm with one neat little snowball to the delighted whoops of Helen and Steve.

“Aw, pumpkin, c’mon!” Tony said, even as he followed his girlfriend’s tracks into the nearest line of trees, balling up more snow.

Pepper ran and ducked behind a spruce next to Darcy. Her face was pink, and her eyes glittered over her cashmere scarf.

“Darcy, help!” she said, laughing breathlessly and brushing snow out of her hair.

“On it,” Darcy replied, and tested the heft of the snow in her hand. Now was the perfect time to get Stark back for what he’d done to their spectrograph. It took her forever to scrub the red and gold paint off of it. “I saw Bruce behind that boulder back there. Go hide out with him, no one wants to risk him Hulking out,” she said with an exasperated eyeroll.

Wimps.

Darcy had no idea why people insisted on treating Bruce with kid gloves. Just the other day some idiot put metal in the break room microwave and the ensuing popping sounds (and small fire) hadn’t made Bruce so much as blink.

Tony was coming towards her and Darcy readied herself. When he was close enough that she knew she could take the shot (which was pretty close - hey, she never said she was Hawkeye or the Winter Soldier), she lobbed the snow at him as hard and fast as she could.

It hit his thigh with a ‘ _thwap!’_ and while he was distracted she sprinted away, no small feat with her fuzzy boots making messy tracks in the heavy snow.

“I’ll get you, Lewis!” Tony yelled, and Darcy grinned.

“That was two, Stark!” Darcy yelled back, over her shoulder.

And just like that, she was being yanked backwards behind a snowdrift even as two snowballs whizzed past her shoulder. She went down with an angry screech, and turned in the crunch of ice and snow to see two bemused light blue eyes under a knit cap stare back at her.

“Barnes! We are on the same damn team, y’know!” she said, and pulled her pom-pommed beanie tighter over her ears.

“I know we’re on the same team, that’s why I’m tryna get you outta the line of fire!”

His arm was still looped around her middle so as much as she was enjoying being faux-cuddled by Bucky Barnes, she wriggled out his grasp and pushed him backwards. She was pretty sure his soft _‘oof’_ was just for show, if his little dimpled smirk was anything to go by.

“I was handling it!” she told him, dusting soft snow from the sleeves of her coat imperiously.

Bucky snorted but said nothing, just continued crouching in his tac pants and boots.

“Wow, you guys are taking this _really_ seriously,” Darcy remarked. Was that matte black material of his jacket that new carbon fiber stuff Stark couldn’t stop talking about? “I just thought we were gonna play until we all admit that it’s more fun to go inside for some of Tony’s spiked hot chocolate.”

“Stark and Rogers think this is a good team building exercise,” Bucky answered. “And Nat is very competitive.”

“Uh, I’ve seen the way you were hurling those things at Sam, dude,” she said, unconvinced. “Don’t even try to hide it, you’re competitive too.”

He said nothing, but shrugged. Then he poked his over their little hideout and made a series of hand signals at someone across the way, possibly Steve.

She tugged him back down, and he landed on his knees next to her with a grunt. “You’re our best marksman, stay down!”

“ _Now_ who’s taking it seriously?” he said, but kept his head bent low. “Also, Nat’s found our cover, we need to find a new hideout.”

“If we run out there, we’re getting hit.”

Translation, _she_ was getting hit.

“Not if we time it just right,” Bucky said and began forming a large, compact snowball. “Last I saw, Jane was at our 3 o’clock, is she still there?”

“Three… Oh! At that huge spindly tree with the shrub next to it?”

“Yeah.”

Darcy hesitantly glanced over their barrier of snow, then quickly shot back down. “Yep, she’s still there. But, hey! Don’t hit her, she’s my friend!”

“Did she or did she not hit you in the butt?”

“Well…okay. But no head shots!”

“Don’t worry, that’s not what I had in mind.” With a last pat of his hand over the snowball, Bucky pulled back his left arm, stared with laser focus at the tree, and threw. The ball arced fluidly in the air, then hit a huge branch, raining a cloud of snow and ice onto the shrub next to it. A shriek sounded up that Darcy recognized as Jane’s.

“My Lady Jane!” came Thor’s booming voice as he ran to his girlfriend, coat billowing out behind him.

“Now!” Bucky shouted, and took her hand in his and began to run, dragging her behind him. She followed as best she could, trying to catch her breath but failing because giggling and running at the same time was difficult. “Here!” And Bucky led her behind a little formation of snow-covered boulders.

Darcy crouched down with him, panting, her clouds of breath puffing into the chilly air. When she glanced beside her, Bucky was barely winded. His lips were curled into a suave smile she last saw in a black and white photo at the Smithsonian exhibit.

Really, he looked very good when he did manage to smile, Darcy thought. And she’d been seeing it a bit more lately. That scowly, murder-y thing that he had going on since he’d arrived had lessened over time. Darcy heard that he’d even cracked a joke with the weapons techs just the other day.

“You make the snowballs, and I’ll throw ‘em,” he told her, when the yelling across the way had settled.

“Why? I can throw too, y’know!”

“Fine, you throw,” he said, and handed her a handful of packed snow.

Darcy peeked out from behind their shelter. The top of Sam’s woolen cap bobbed from behind a tree. She waited until he moved again, aimed, and threw.

It missed him completely.

“That the best you’ve got?” Sam bellowed and followed it up a huge laugh.

Silently, Darcy balled up some snow and handed it to Bucky, whose lips twitched but he managed to keep whatever comments he had to himself for once.

Bucky returned fire, ducking just in time as snowballs were lobbed at them from across the way.

She wasn’t so lucky.

“Ugh, that’s my second!” Darcy said, shaking wet snow from her hat.

Sam and Wanda let out triumphant yells that sounded throughout the field.

“Hurry, Darce, he’s gettin’ away!” Bucky said, tracking a retreating Wilson. Without looking, he held out a hand for another snowball.

Hurriedly, she tried to form another ball but when she flexed her fingers they didn’t seem to want to obey.

“Can’t.” She willed back a full-body shiver. “My fingers are popsicles.” She held up her palms to show him the wet, iciness that visibly dampened her wool gloves.

Bucky turned to her and instantly frowned.

“Jesus, Lewis, you tryna get frostbite?”

He reached for her, took her sodden gloved hands in his and hastily pulled off her gloves.

He cupped his hands around her ungloved ones, and as her heart rate rocketed, brought them up to his mouth. He blew into them and at first she couldn’t really feel anything, but soon the tips of her fingers tingled with the warmth of his breath while her own breath caught in her throat.

This time she wasn’t able to hold back her shiver. It was definitely because of the cold. Yep. Totally due the cold.

“Better?” he asked, still grasping her fingers over his lips.

“Uh-huh,” she squeaked, and nodded jerkily. She cursed her layers of wool and cotton because wow, was it getting toasty out here in the snow and ice and general wintry weather?

Whatever embarrassment she might have felt over doing her best Alvin and the Chipmunks impression dissipated when he answered with his own, slightly gravelly, “Good.”

He squeezed her hands gently, between his, as their breath misted in the air. It was incredibly unfair that he looked this good. There she was, nose probably all red, lips chapped, and he was looking like –

_Thwap!_

A puff of wet snow burst from Bucky’s shoulder from behind. Darcy jerked back when the bits of iciness hit her cheeks.

“You guys gonna moon at each other all day, or are you gonna play?” taunted Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye aka the guy was totally gonna get a snowball to face from Dr. Darcy Elizabeth Lewis.

Like a shot, Darcy was out of their little hiding spot stopping only once to scoop up a handful of loose snow, not even caring that it wasn’t even a proper snowball. She saw only Clint’s bright purple jacket in front of her as he fled from her, calling for backup all the while.

Knowing she’d never catch up to an Avenger, Darcy brought her hand back to throw the snow instead.

But the second her arm went back something went wrong with her momentum and before she knew it her feet were slipping out from under her. She went down with a surprised yell, and without thinking reached out to cushion her fall. Immediately she felt searing pain in her right hand followed a dull pain in her head.

 

Everything was black.

Muffled.

 

“Darcy? Del?”

 

 

… _Del_?

 

 

 

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words couldn’t come.

“Darcy, c’mon sweetheart, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Despite the chill seeping through her clothes, the large gloved hand was warm against her cheek and then –

She opened her eyes, and someone was above her, blurry and all in black. Probably Bucky.

She shut her eyes again, god, the back of her head hurt like hell.

“Dr. Cho!” he called out, and his bellow rang out throughout the field. And then unsteadily, to her, “C’mon, keep those eyes open for me. You were gonna take me ice skatin’ remember? Can’t do that if you’re – if you’re – ”

“Give her some room, please. Let me look at her,” came Helen’s voice, softer, but a great deal less shaky than Bucky’s.

Darcy blinked open her eyes.

“Helen?” Darcy said, scrunching her face. The world was coming back into focus, the snow-covered lawn and the faces of her friends. Helen’s face full of concern. “I think – I think I fell.”

Helen gave her a hint of a smile at the same time Bucky let out a sigh of relief.

“You definitely did,” Helen answered. She glanced behind Darcy and sighed. “And it’s no wonder with that patch of ice back there. You were out for - ? ” She trailed off and looked at Bucky.

“She was unconscious for a minute,” Bucky said, and this time his voice was sharp, no-nonsense. “Maybe a minute and a half.”

“Alright,” Helen said, and then to her, “Can you sit up?”

“Yup,” answered Darcy. “Cool.” She paused. “Am I up?”

“No, Darce.”

This time, she pushed herself up to sitting on the hand that wasn’t in pain and both Helen and Bucky helped her up the rest of the way.

“Head hurts,” she mumbled, and tried to gesture with her hand and instantly regretted it. “Shit. And my wrist.”

Their group of friends had begun to gather around them.

“Darcy, you okay?” Steve asked, at the same time Clint took one look at her and remarked, “Aw, Lewis.”

“Darcy?!” cried Jane, pushing past the Avengers to stride towards her. She reached out a hand and steadied her by her arm.

“Hey, Janey” Darcy rasped, and even took an experimental step forward. She was relieved when it wasn’t followed by dizziness.

Helen spoke, “Let’s get a gurney out here and we can – ”

“I can walk. Really,” she assured Helen, despite how annoyed she was at how weak and wobbly her legs were. Now that she was upright and the furor was dying down a bit, she was starting to become a bit self-conscious that she was the cause of the commotion.

“Still, Lady Darcy, if you would allow me,” Thor said from behind Jane, and held out his arms in that way he had that made her feel like she’d be doing him a great honor to let him carry her like a sack of embarrassed potatoes to medical.

“Alright, big guy,” she acquiesced, and he gave her a happy smile before she was lifted into his hold like she weighed nothing.

“Let’s get you checked out, okay?” Helen said, and began leading the way to the medical wing.

In Thor’s arms, she rested the side of her face against his broad chest, the slightly scratchy wool of his coat comforting against her cold cheek, and his big arms hugging her against him. It was like being cuddled by a giant yellow Labrador and she smiled when she thought of telling Jane about it later.

Still. Something was itching at the back of her mind, like she’d forgotten something important.

She brought her unhurt palm up to the side of her still-aching head, and for the present concentrated on Helen’s voice.

The rest of her afternoon was a blur of medical assessments. Helen and her colleagues determined that her lack any memory loss, fatigue, and nausea was a good sign. She was then prepared for a CT scan just in case, and an x-ray for her wrist.

She was sitting on the exam table listening to Helen in full doctor mode when it hit her.

“Luckily, your hand isn’t broken, although I know it’s probably in quite a bit of pain,” Helen said, putting the finishing touches on the bandage around her wrist. “Your wrist is just sprained. I’ll give you some painkillers for that and the little bit of swelling. Just don’t do anything that could aggravate it again. So no sledding or ice skating out there, okay?”

“Okay,” she said weakly, her mouth suddenly dry.

 

_Ice skating._

 

That’s what Bucky mentioned to her when she fell.

He said he’d hoped she’d take him ice skating, only she never promised _him_ that, she was sure of it. She’d promised…

J.

Then her mind was reeling, frantically slotting things into place.

He’d called her _Del._

She knew she didn’t mishear that one.

Which meant…

Bucky was…J?

That night at the café, he hadn’t just been out to get a coffee. The way he teased her then – he knew exactly what to say because _he_ was the one she was waiting for. There was no good explanation for why he never made their date, because he _did,_ he was there, only –

God.

This whole time.

This whole time J was Bucky, and Bucky was J, and…

He _knew._

He knew she’d been flirting with J, had been writing to him. He’d read everything she wrote, all of her dumb jokes, her random thoughts, her complaints about work and about _him._

He _knew_ and he didn’t –

She felt exposed somehow, uncovered.

Embarrassment and humiliation rolled over her in alternating waves, and through it, she struggled to get in a full breath.

God, how could he do this? She knew that up until recently they hadn’t been the best of friends, hell, they hardly even spoke unless it was to antagonize the other, but. She always thought he was a good guy at heart, and now this –

So, she held onto it. Held onto the fury that sprouted up over the humiliation with both hands because otherwise she’d have to face her sadness and mortification, and hadn’t she been embarrassed enough?

When Helen left for a bit to check on the pain medication, Darcy took the time to change clothes. In a complete daze, she undressed from the scratchy paper hospital gown and into her jeans and sweater, mindful of her injured wrist.

At the end of it her throat ached, but whether it was with the effort of holding in a cry or a scream she wasn’t sure. She sat back down on the exam table.

“I’m prescribing you bedrest for the rest of the day,” Helen declared, when she returned bearing a little plastic bottle of her pills. “Watch a movie,” she suggested. “Stay out of trouble. And call me immediately if you experience any dizziness or nausea.”

“Is Bucky out there?” Darcy asked her.

“Yeah. So’s Jane and Thor and Wanda.” She finished up her notes on her clipboard, and clicked her pen with finality.

“Um, can you tell Bucky that I’d like to see him, please?” Her voice sounded far away to her own ears.

“Of course, Darcy.” Helen put down her papers and gave her knee comforting squeeze. “Glad you’re okay,” she said with a smile that Darcy forced herself to return.

Through the door, she heard Helen’s voice.

“Yes. Yes, she’s fine. No concussion, just a nasty bump on the head and a sprained wrist.” A pause and then, “Barnes? She’d like to – “

 

* * *

 

“ – see you, actually.” Dr. Cho was doing a pretty good job of keeping a neutral face, but there was a slight furrow between her brows. She was probably wondering why Darcy wanted to see him first before all of her friends.

He was kind of wondering, too, but he shook that off and went in.

Darcy was sitting on the exam table, her hands in lap. Her hair was in a bit of a tangle and her face was pale and drawn.

“Darcy? How ya feelin’?”

“Fine. Um. Fine,” she answered, flicking her eyes to his and then away. She bit her lip.

“Oh, good. Do you wanna – ”

“I’m going to ask you something and I want you to tell me the truth.”

The skin on the back of his neck prickled.

“Okay.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” she asked, in a flat, emotionless tone.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me that you’re J. That we’ve been messaging this whole time?”

And he just stopped.

Stopped breathing, stopped thinking.

In the blank quiet, the floor was dropping out from under him. There was nothing to hold onto near him and his panic, red-hot, welled up inside him.

“You _are_ J, right?” she continued, this time looking at him evenly from across the room. “Tell me, Bucky Barnes.”

His mouth opened and closed several times, his mind supplying words, sentences that were all excuses and lies that came, shamefully enough, automatically.

“Yes,” he said, finally. Letting go of the weight of the lies, even if they were lies of omission. And what was the point anyways, when she’d found out and everything was crumbling around him? “Yes.” He took a breath. “But Darcy, I – ”

“But what?”

“I didn’t know either, not at first. And after I found out, I just wanted, I wanted – ” He raked a hand through his hair so hard it felt like he was pulling at it. He began again, attempting to impose a calmness he didn’t feel into his words. “When I found out that we were already writing to each other, I just wanted some time so I could be that person.”

“That person…”

He was rubbed both of his hands over his face, overcome with regret and frustration.

“…A friend. _Your_ friend. A person you could like.”

In the ensuing silence he was noting exits, wanting nothing more than to run out of that room. But he knew that he needed to stay, that she needed his honesty after everything he’d done.

“I _did_ like him. J, you, whoever - both of you,” she said with a derisive laugh at herself, and his heart broke at the sound. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

“Darcy, I’m so sorry. I hadn’t meant to let it get this far.”

“What, exactly, were trying to do?!” she asked, glaring at him incredulously, face reddened with anger. “When were going to tell me? Tomorrow?”

He looked at her imploringly, trying to think of anything that would make her understand.

She continued, voice wavering. “A week from now? A year?”

Like a goddamn coward, he didn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer for her, because he didn’t know. He didn’t know how long he was going to keep up the ruse.

“Were you – ” She sniffled, and his heart clenched painfully at the small sound. He took a step towards her, hands out ready to comfort her, to beg, to do something, but she turned a palm out to him and as much as it killed him, he halted in his tracks. She was balling up a paper dressing gown in her hands, wringing it. “Were you _laughing_ at me? This whole time,” she looked up at him with watery eyes. “Were you – was this just some game to you?”

“No. _No_ ,” he said, injecting every ounce of feeling that he could into his words so she would believe him. “I didn’t – I didn’t know at first and then when I found out – “

“At the café,” she supplied for him, faintly.

He nodded, shakily, twice. “Yes. I – I saw you through the window. With the cactus.”

“And you _left_ me there! You left me there to make me think that I’d been stood up! That someone…didn’t want me,” she finished, and her voice cracked on the last words.

_I did want you_ , he longed to say. _I **do** want you, all the time._

“Darcy,” he croaked. “I panicked and ran! I’m so sorry, Darcy. I was a fucking coward and I’m sorry.”

“You could have said something. Anything.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

His knees were locked beneath him. He wanted nothing more than to go and sit somewhere quiet to gather his thoughts. There was a reason he’d initially found writing to be an easier way to interact with someone.

“I wanted time,” he explained, and her head cocked to the side in question. “Time to show you that I wasn’t a jerk, that I was – _am –_ that person you’ve been talking to. I wanted to show you that I could be that guy, that guy who could make you laugh or smile. That we could – ” He choked over his next words, could hardly even hear them over how loud his heart was hammering in his ears. “That we could be good together.”

“But you didn’t trust me to make that decision for myself,” she accused, with a quiet ferocity.

He winced.

“I wanted to tell you. So many times, to tell you that who I was,” he protested, and it felt like trying to run in quicksand. “That I knew that you were Del and –“

“No,” she said vehemently. “Don’t call me that. Don’t say that name. Just… _don’t._ I think you’d better stick to calling me ‘Darcy’,” she said. “And instead of ‘J’ I’ll stick to your real name. _Bucky,”_ she bit out. Her shoulders slumped, and she curled in on herself. “Bucky, just…just go. Please leave.”

He took a chance, went forwards three steps and reached for her. “Darcy, please, I – “

“ _Leave_ ,” she said fiercely, and brought her eyes, red-rimmed and fiery with anger, to his. He couldn’t help but rear back in the face of it. Then the wrath in her ebbed away and tiredly she added, “Leave before I scream for Thor. Believe me, no one wants that.”

So he did.

With everything falling apart around him, he did.

He left, fled really, with the knowledge that he’d ruined this - this thing they’d never even had the chance to start.

“How is she?” Jane asked him when he came back out to the hallway.

He tried to control his breathing, calm the wrenching in his chest and stomach.

“She’s alright,” he answered, willing steadiness into his tone. “She’s – her wrist is sprained but she’s fine.” It wasn’t new information, and Dr. Cho had told her already, but he didn’t know what else to say. He supposed Darcy would tell her friend soon enough what he’d done.

He had to get out of there. The narrow hallway already felt like it was closing in on him, the humming of the too bright overhead lights pushing down on him. He clenched his fists by his sides when all he wanted to do was punch holes into the wall until the entire facility was a pile of rubble and ash.

He strode down the hall, away from Darcy and her friends.

And nearly collided with Steve who had made his way to medical, probably to check on him. “Buck, is everything – “

He shoved past his friend, probably harder than he should have, to the stairway.

“Everything’s _fine_!” he snarled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Narrator: Everything was _not_ fine.
> 
> \- Weird (not-so-weird?) headcanon that the weapons techs fanboy/girl the Winter Soldier and he, in turn, fanboys them because science/engineering + guns = explodey is Very Fucking Cool.
> 
> \- So I generally tried to stay a chapter or two ahead when posting this fic but as you can imagine, not a lot of writing was getting done over the busy holiday week. *eyeroll @ my own hubris* I’ll try my best to get the next installment up this coming Sunday but if I don’t see you then, we’ll meet on the 21st!
> 
> \- Come hang out with me on tumblr [here](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/) !


	8. Chapter 8

“Please, _please_ don’t tell Thor!” Darcy pleaded. Well, as much as someone in her current position could plead. Jane was nice enough to not mention that it sounded like something between a croak and a gasp.

“Why not? He’s your friend, too,” Jane said, and moved gracefully into a side plank.

Darcy followed the movements, and glared at the back of her friend’s head.

Letting Jane talk her into going into town to take a yoga class was probably not a great idea. Sure, it got her out of her Moping Pajamas, and back out into the world, but at what cost?

She was getting used to her Moping Pajamas. They were soft flannel and eggs-and-bacon print and fine, she’d been wearing them so often they could’ve become her own non-superhero uniform at some point.

After the “conversation” with Bucky in medical, she stalked straight to her rooms, put on those pajamas, turned off her phone and had herself a good think.

It didn’t take much to fit the puzzle pieces together.

Bucky’s friend who snuck a dog into his apartment was clearly Clint. She knew he had another apartment in Bed-Stuy, and a sort of shared custody arrangement of the loveable mutt with Kate Bishop. That meant that the ‘landlord’ who got distracted by shiny things was obviously Stark.

And the ice skating. She was happy he didn’t spend the holidays alone. She pictured him bundled up against a chilly day looking over the rink at Rockefeller Center, watching the crowd skate while someone, possibly Sam or Steve, hands him a flask of Rumple Minze to keep warm.

She couldn’t help smiling at the thought of Bucky admiring tiny Kevin McCallister for his traps and weapons in _Home Alone._

But through it all she still felt the sting of betrayal.

Or was that the sting of her quads as she tried to follow along?

Bitterly, she mused that Jane might need reasons (i.e. sex with an alien god) to keep limber but she certainly didn’t. Not with the way her potential love life messily imploded.  

“You know exactly why you can’t tell Thor. And don’t tell Wanda either,” Darcy said, slightly strained as she tried to keep her balance as they all transitioned to Eagle Pose. She was also trying to keep her voice down because the girl with the dyed blue ponytail in front of her kept sliding them both the judgey eye between moves.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because! She’ll probably do some sort of weird spooky magic on him!”

Jane turned to her, her smirk sharp and playful. “I repeat - why the hell not?”

“Shh!” Blue Ponytail whipped around to glare at them both, and Darcy had to swallow a laugh when Jane lobbed back,

“ _You_ ‘shh’!”

 

* * *

 

For all of the time she spent in those Moping Pajamas holed up in her quarters with her cat, she maybe, sort of, a little bit forgot that she and the guy she was studiously avoiding lived, worked, and hung out at the same place.

 

* * *

 

Darcy was returning from a trip to the store, arms laden with bags of her and Jane’s monthly supply of Pop Tarts. They preferred S’mores and the limited-edition Hulk Green, which was key lime pie flavored. The latter she only ate when Tony popped by the labs. It irked him to see that he didn’t have some sort of breakfast treat tie-in, and she enjoyed seeing him trying and failing not to pout.

She wasn’t exactly watching where she was going, so when she was at the doorway to the facility and saw that a tall figure was coming out the same way she was headed in, she only mumbled, “Sorry” and stepped to the side.

Where he stepped, too.

She froze. And looked up into the slightly wide eyes of Bucky.

He blinked. She was still holding those heavy as hell bags.

“I – S’cuse me,” he stammered.

Again, she took a step out of his way, to her left, at the same time he stepped to his right.

She let out an annoyed huff, hiding her flaming face behind a curtain of hair.

“Okay,” she said, more sharply than she’d wanted because she didn’t expect her first words to him to be directions for _walking_. “I’m going _here_.” She gestured with her elbow to her right, not even looking at him and keeping her eyes firmly locked on the floor. “And you come out this way.” She pointed to her left.

Silently, he obeyed her order and they both passed each other without further comment. Darcy booked it across the lobby, then down to the labs where she plopped down at her desk and let her head fall back, bags of snacks forgotten at her feet.

Her agonized groan at the ceiling was so loud, FRIDAY asked if she required assistance.

 

* * *

 

The universe was trying to tell her to take the stairs.

She was waiting for the elevators (seriously, who’d have thought that Stark’s place would have elevators her Nana could outpace?) arms full of papers plus her Starkpad balanced on top. When the doors finally opened, a couple suited office workers already occupied most of the space. Office workers, and looming behind all of them, Bucky Barnes.

Of course. Barnes, whose blue eyes were even brighter against his dark hair and black long-sleeved compression shirt that stretched over his ridiculously broad shoulders and _crap_ , she was still just standing there staring at him like a crazy person. God, was her mouth hanging open a little?!

“Floor?” an older lady in front asked politely, breaking the spell and reminding her to breathe.

Darcy adjusted her hold on her papers and managed to stutter out the number of the science/research floor.

When she turned to face the closing doors, the perturbed look on her face was distorted even more in the reflection on the shiny metal.

The back of her neck prickled lightly.

Yeah. Definitely the stairs next time.

 

* * *

 

The common room was filled with the sounds of soft chattering of the residents. It sort of felt like a special occasion despite Pepper reassuring her that it was casual. Everyone’s schedules were unreliable at best, so very rarely did they have dinner together. In Darcy’s experience, most people either ate in their own quarters or passed by to graze on whatever was in the common room fridge and left.

But a week ago, Pepper sent out an email informing everyone that Tony had hired some fancy Manhattan chef for the night.

She and Jane were among the first to arrive, as the promise of delicious carbs lured them away from their work and a potentially depressing dinner of microwaveable frozen pizza.

Everyone else wandered in after, pouring themselves glasses of wine, soda, or water depending their moods, and nibbling on the bruschetta and other snacks the chef sent up as appetizers.

She and Jane were introducing to Thor to caprese, when she felt Jane stiffen beside her, the forkful of mozzarella paused on its way to Thor’s plate and dripping olive oil onto the table.

When she looked at the doorway, she saw why.

“Hey, man, take a seat,” Sam said to Bucky as he trailed in after Steve. “Y’all are lucky we got staff here. Growing up, whoever was last at the table did the dishes,” he joked, oblivious to the potential drama unfolding.

Steve immediately took the seat next to Natasha, and they both cast very unsubtle looks at Darcy, then Bucky. Luckily, everyone else was caught up in their own conversations to notice.

Bucky had his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets and he halted visibly when he saw that the only seat left was next to her. If he was a cartoon, it would have accompanied by car screeching noises.

Darcy could see the hesitance warring within him, in his darting eyes and stiff shoulders.

Does he switch with Steve and draw attention to himself? Or sit next to her and risk Word War III over Pasta Bolognese and Fettucine Alfredo?

She decided to spare them all and made the decision for him.

“Oh my god, Barnes, please sit. You’re making all of us nervous just hovering like that,” she said, finally, and pulled out the chair next to her. She patted the seat.

Friendly. Casual. She could do this.

He came to sit by her and gave her a quiet, “Thanks.”

The rest of the dinner passed without incident.

The Avengers ate a truly obscene amount of pasta, she and Pepper discovered a shared love of home renovation shows, and Wanda and Clint argued about whether the little Sokovian bakery by his apartment was a front for a money laundering operation (verdict: most likely yes, but their fresh pastries were still top notch).

She barely spoke to Bucky at all, only murmuring a ‘thank you’ to him when he passed her the bowl of salad. Still, throughout the entire evening she was acutely aware of his presence next to her and couldn’t help but be pleased when he joined in conversation – even if most of the time it was to rib Sam over something or other.

Afterwards, she followed Jane to her quarters.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Jane said, stepping out of her shoes and toeing them in the general vicinity of the shoe rack.

“No, I guess not.” Darcy shoved Jane’s alarmingly large pile of unread mail to the side, and leaned against the kitchen counter. Her friend’s place didn’t look nearly as neglected as it usually did. Jane finally threw out that sad-looking plant thing that she’d bought and hadn’t watered once. She probably did a cursory tidying up when she heard Thor was stopping by.

Once again, Darcy spared a tiny self-pitying thought towards her own nonexistent love life.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to see him ever again, you know,” said Jane, inadvertently pulling her out of yet another mope session. She handed Darcy a bottled water from the fridge. “In case you’re worried about it being weird. It’s not like we go on missions and stuff with the Avengers. And those dinners and hang outs are easy enough to get out of.”

Darcy twisted the cap off the bottle and took a drink. She didn’t say anything, but she disagreed with Jane – those hang outs would not be easy to get out of after a while. People would ask questions, especially if Jane showed up and she didn’t. And okay, the thought of never seeing or speaking to Bucky ever again sort of made her heart ache a little. How do you miss someone when you keep seeing them everyday?

Jane paused to peer at her, her own drink halfway to her lips.

“Oh!” she said, eyes going owlish at the expression on Darcy’s face, which was getting pinker by the moment. “ _Ohh.”_

Darcy huffed mirthlessly and cursed her stupid heart.

“Yeah,” she answered, setting the bottle on the counter then shoving her hands into her jeans pockets. “’Oh.’”

 

* * *

 

One afternoon, she and Mike, a new lab assistant, were talking about asking Stark for newer antennae for her and Jane’s rooftop setup, when the guy just stopped in the middle of his sentence. He visibly paled, stuttered out an excuse, and scuttled away to “check on those data readouts”.

Darcy turned around to the sight of Natasha in full Black Widow uniform, complete with thigh holster and gun and who knows how many hidden doodads and weapons.

“Seriously?!” Darcy cried.

Natasha shrugged. “What?”

“You know what,” Darcy answered, gesturing to her entire get up. “Can I help you with anything, or are you just here to make the geeks squirm?”

“It’s no fun when it’s so easy.”

“Natasha.”

The Widow began making her way around the lab, making hardly any sound at all. It was kind of spooky actually – a figure all in black gliding silently, picking up and studying objects and equipment with a cool disinterest.

She bent down to look into a microscope, then idly adjusted the desktop screen at Jane’s desk. When that didn’t hold her interest she tapped her nail to the bobble head doll next to Darcy’s computer, making it nod vigorously.

Finally, she perched herself on Darcy’s desk and looked to her with green eyes. But she didn’t feel intimidated. The look Natasha was giving her was almost…friendly?

“I tried to make him tell you earlier, you know.”

Darcy sighed, then pressed her lips together. Of course, Natasha was here to talk about Bucky. And of course, she was gonna jump right in.

“How did you find out?” Darcy asked with more curiosity than surprise. That Natasha knew the goings on of everyone’s lives was not exactly a great revelation. The woman probably knew her blood type, her mother’s maiden name, and her last takeout order.

“It wasn’t difficult. You had your date the same night Barnes did, and you both returned home looking like someone kicked a basket full of orphaned puppies.”

“You’re only here ‘cause you’re his friend,” Darcy countered, hating the whiny note in her tone the second the sentence left her mouth.

“Well,” Natasha said with a playful lilt, “A guy teaches you how to break a person’s neck in three moves or less, so you feel like you owe him a favor.”

“Is that what I am? A favor?”

“No,” she answered, the ‘ _you dummy’_ at the end unspoken but clear. “You’re my friend, too. And maybe I don’t like to see two of my friends moping around. Are you going to keep ignoring him forever?”

“Yes!” Darcy answered automatically, throwing her hands up, aggravated. Was everyone bugging Barnes about her, too? She hoped so. It would serve him right. She let out a breath, and looked away. “No. I don’t know. It was pretty messed up what he did.”

“I agree.”

“It was humiliating! Knowing that he’d read all that stuff that I hadn’t meant for him to see and.. _._ ” Darcy took moment to breathe. It would do her no good to just start crying again in front of the Black Widow, of all people. “And the - the thing with Pruitt happened, then Bucky just made me _wait_ in the stupid coffee shop. And even when he found out, he never told me I was already writing to him. It just made me feel… _unworthy_ or something, y’know?”

Natasha nodded thoughtfully. “I imagine Barnes might know that feeling as well.”

Darcy cast a quick, surprised glance at the redhead. Natasha was casually twirling a pen the same way Darcy had seen her do with her Widow’s Batons, as she went on, “You don’t think that when he was trying to buy time he was also trying prove his worthiness to you? Trying to be the sort of person he thinks you deserve?”

“I – ” Darcy didn’t have anything to say to that, her possible retort or argument dying in her throat.

“I agree that he’s handled this…badly.”

Darcy snorted at the understatement.

“I’m not saying you have to forgive him right now. Or ever, if you don’t want to. In any case, starting this afternoon, we’ll be out of your hair for the next week or so anyways.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Mission. Another possible HYDRA base. This time in the ass end of Moldova.”

So they were going back to Eastern Europe. Darcy couldn’t recall if Bucky had been back there since his time in Romania. She couldn’t imagine what he might have been feeling at that moment. Fear? Anger? Apprehension?

“Oh.” Darcy bit her lip, trying very hard to ignore the churning in her stomach. “Stay safe, okay?”

“Sure.” Natasha sat very still on her table, and said nothing else.

In the uncomfortable press of silence, Darcy went over to the filing cabinet. From the corner of her eye, she could still sense that Natasha was still there, sitting and waiting patiently. Darcy pulled open a drawer with a ‘clang’ and began flipping through random manila folders, eager to have something to do with her hands.

She fiddled with a paperclip holding a bunch of old SOP forms together.

“And…will you – I mean, just ‘cause I’m pissed at him right now doesn’t mean that – ”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Natasha said reassuringly, and when Darcy turned to look at her, the Widow didn’t even bother to tamp down her pleased smile.

Darcy narrowed her eyes at the redhead, then crossed her arms over her chest.

“Stop that,” she admonished, and Natasha’s only response was to give a dry laugh.

 

* * *

 

It was not one, but two weeks later when Darcy received a message relayed by FRIDAY from Natasha that everything went as expected (“Just landed, we're all good, fingers and toes all accounted for.”)

Darcy found herself breathing a sigh of relief.

Still, she took herself and her leftover adrenaline to the common room. She needed something mindless to do and she knew for a fact that with everything going on, no one had bothered to take down the Christmas tree.

Unlike the monstrous red and gold decorated spruce in the lobby of the facility, the tree in the common room was smaller, toned down. It was plastic, as no one could really be relied upon to look after a real one. Everyone had put their own little ornaments up on the tree making it look a great deal homier than the spruce.

In the lounge area, Darcy put her hands on her hips and sighed.

The Christmas tree would turn into a Valentine’s tree and then a St. Patrick’s Day tree if it wasn’t taken down now. From the storage closet, she dragged out the plastic container for the ornaments and the little cardboard boxes for the string lights. 

“Hey.”

" _Jee-zus_!" she cried, clutching the boxes tightly after almost dropping them. She whirled around to a rumpled Bucky pushing himself up to sitting on the couch. His hair was pressed flat on one side of his head and he ran a metal hand through it in a jerky movement.

"Sorry,” he said, voice still gravelly with sleep. Absently, he rubbed the heel of his palm against his left shoulder. Darcy wondered if it ached after he slept on it or if he’d suffered some kind of unseen injury to it in Moldova. As if he could hear he thoughts, he snapped his gaze to hers. Despite his disheveled appearance, his eyes were bright and alert.

"Someone needs to put a bell on you," Darcy declared, tearing her own gaze away. She was acutely aware that this was the most she'd said to him since the day of the snowball fight.

She began unhooking ornaments from their branches, separating the little metal hooks from the shiny baubles.

“I can um, leave,” Bucky said. “If you want.”

“What? No. No, you don’t have to.” Darcy unhooked a glass Petri dish shaped ornament from the tree – it was probably Helen’s ornament. “I’m not kicking you out.”

Was this how it was going to be from now on? Avoiding each other until they have to make up some sort of schedule for who was allowed to be somewhere at a certain time?

“Oh. Okay.” More shuffling noises from behind her, and she pictured him folding up the flannel blanket, righting the pillows on the couch.

“How do you like the book?” She nodded her head towards the worn copy of _Stardust_ that was sitting next to a mug on the coffee table. Darcy was pleased to note that he didn’t splay the book face down on the table to keep his place or (god forbid) dog ear the pages.

“I liked it a lot. What I read anyways. I didn’t get very far until I conked out.”

“You can keep it till you finish it, if you want.”

“It’s yours?” He picked it up, careful of the loose pages.

“Yep. One of my favorites. There’s a movie, too,” Darcy answered, letting herself be drawn back into recommending books and movies to him.

Bucky nodded in acknowledgement as he put the book down, then took a drink of whatever was left in the mug. The scrunched up face he made when he winced at the taste had Darcy turning back to the tree to conceal her smile.

“Would you like some help?”

“Sure.” Darcy pointed to the plastic tub by her feet. “Ornaments go in there, the string lights have their own boxes, and we’ll just throw out the tinsel, I think.”

They worked well together, once they figured out a rhythm. Darcy would hand him the ornaments and he would place them in the box, placing the more delicate ones in their own bubble wrap bags. They switched when it came to the getting to the ornaments that were higher up on the tree.

Unbidden, the memory of Bucky lifting her to get at the cereal boxes in the kitchen flashed through her mind. It seemed a lifetime ago that his were hands firm on her waist and he had that gleam in his eyes when she was set down and turned to look at him. She caught herself, mentally shook away the unhelpful thoughts, and concentrated on slipping a green glass ornament into its bag without dislodging too much glitter on herself.

After long moments of de-trimming the tree, Darcy ventured, “So how was the mission?”

“Good.” From behind a plastic branch, she could see a little twist in Bucky’s face. “Uh. Fine.”

“Well, that was convincing,” Darcy answered sarcastically, taking from him an ornament that was shaped like a dove, complete with feathered tail.

She heard him sigh. “It did go fine. I was just – ” he mumbled something she strained to hear.

“You were just…”

“Stabbed.” He paused for second then added, “A little.”

“You got a little bit stabbed,” Darcy repeated blandly, then shoved a fluffy tree branch out of the way so she could give Bucky the stink eye.

“M’fine,” he protested. “Got me on the shoulder, but I uh, heal quick. Y’know, like…Steve.”

“Oh. Good. Okay.”

“Why, you worried about me, doll?” was Bucky’s quick response, tone tinged through with Brooklyn Smartass.

Darcy froze, a flush creeping up her neck. “I worry about all of the Avengers,” she sniffed.

Bucky wisely held his tongue.

When they were done with the ornaments, they moved onto the tinsel which were so unwieldy that Darcy was glad for the help. After, came the string lights and they untangled and unwound the strand of multicolored LED lights from the tree.

“’Kay, hold your hands out like this,” Darcy instructed, and held her own palms parallel to each other about a foot apart. He did as told, and she began to loop the string lights around his hands.

He let out a little laugh when he realized what she was doing.

“What?” she asked, looking back up at him and returning his smile almost automatically.

“I remember doin’ this,” he explained, brows furrowed slightly but still smiling. “But with yarn, I think.”

“Oh?” Darcy finished up, and placed the looped Christmas lights in its box. “Good memory?”

“Yeah. My ma would make me do that while she was windin’ yarn. I think there was a lotta complainin’ on my part, I didn’t wanna sit still while she worked. But it’s a good memory. We’d listen to the radio, sometimes she’d sing along…” he trailed off.

Darcy didn’t know what to say to that.

She knew what she wanted to do.

She kind of wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and feed him lots of hot chocolate but 1) she was still unsure of her footing around him, and 2) she was uncertain if the type of guy who taught the Widow how to snap a person’s neck would even be up for that sort of coziness.

Maybe there was an assassin-friendly alternative to hot chocolate. Like a duffel bag full of garrotes.

She was pondering whether they sold garrotes on Amazon when Bucky, who had until then been safely on the other side of the tree, was suddenly standing right in front her, reaching for her face.

Darcy stood stock still, holding her breath, as he gently carded his fingers through the strands of hair by her face. And although the graze of his thumb on her cheekbone was feather light, it sent a little zip of electricity down her arms anyways.

Her heartbeat was loud in her ears.

Unable to trust herself to look at him, she instead she kept her eyes trained on the general vicinity of his neck and shoulders. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously.

“You had tinsel…” he explained, his voice husky, and held up the little ribbons of silver, then dropped it into her open palm.

“Thanks,” she managed, over the little swooping sensations in her stomach. She shoved the tinsel into a garbage bag.

Darcy dusted off her hands and swiped the stray bits of plastic pine from her sweater. Bucky was back to looking vaguely twitchy. He was clenching his hands by his side again, and Darcy knew that if she let him, he’d bolt out of there quicker than a spooked rabbit. Awkwardness was creeping in around them once more, which Darcy couldn’t stand.

“I was gonna make a pot of coffee. Would you like some?”

His head jerked up, and he blinked in surprise.

“I would,” Bucky answered.

And his hopeful smile made something inside Darcy’s chest unfurl and bloom, slow and sweet like honey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Aaaand, we’ve got a final chapter count! *does happy dance*
> 
> \- Confession: my own Christmas tree only came down this week D: In my defense, our cats like sleeping under (and sometimes in) it, and I’m a pushover when it comes to them.
> 
> \- I’m on tumblr [here](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/) !


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky was sitting on a leather wingback chair, in a little room populated with a great number of potted ferns.

He liked to think that if Dr. Crenshaw, his therapist, went into another line of work, she’d be a botanist.

When Sam first recommended he attend therapy (read: dragged him grumbling and swearing) with Dr. Crenshaw he admittedly, and shamefully, expected someone a lot different.

An old man, perhaps – wearing a white doctor’s coat and making him lie down on a chaise while he was asked questions about his “traumatic past” he didn’t feel like answering. But Dr. Delores Crenshaw was a woman in her mid-fifties, who wore her greying hair in an elegant bun, and paired her impeccably tailored dark suits with orthopedic shoes.

Dr. Crenshaw had suggested a while ago that he take up a hobby that wasn’t related to his “work” so to speak. Considering his idea of a hobby was to spar with his teammates or try out whatever crazy thing Weapons R&D made this week (Jesus, the things they can do with a long-range rifle these days), it was kind of difficult.

But when he told Dr. Crenshaw this, sitting in her office with the muted winter sunlight streaming through the windows, she only watched him over her wire rimmed glasses. There wasn’t a judgmental look in her deeply set brown eyes, just curiosity.

“Perhaps something to do with your hands,” she suggested, flicking a glance to him before writing something down on her notepad. “Something that’s not –”

“Beating the crap outta people?” he finished for her, inwardly wincing when he realized he was borrowing the phrase from Darcy.

Dr. Crenshaw smiled kindly. “I was going to say, something that allows you to feel in control. We talked about cooking when you first came to me. What do you think of that?”

Bucky thought of his one attempt at anything more advanced than making a sandwich or searing a steak in a pan. That pie he made when he was texting Darcy, and the disastrous result (that he ate anyways, washing it down with the leftover vodka).

He cleared his throat and rubbed his palms on the arms of the chair. “That might be alright.”

“Well, good. Try out a recipe this weekend. Something simple.”

When he nodded his agreement, Dr. Crenshaw finished up whatever she was writing on her notepad then clasped her hands together.

“Now. Are you sleeping better?”

 

* * *

 

“So she’s _not_ mad at you,” remarked Steve, from his place on the couch where he was twisting the cap off the beer Bucky gave him.

Nat slid into the seat next to Steve and immediately propped her feet onto Steve’s lap. She rolled her eyes, let out a short breath, and then began flipping through the coffee table book that came with the place.

“Well…maybe?” Bucky answered, and scratched a fingertip under the damp label of his own beer.

Another huff from Romanoff.

“You got somethin’ to add?”

“Nothing. I’m done giving advice to advice to you,” Nat said, breezily.

“Usually when people aren’t giving advice, they stay silent.”

“This is me,” Nat intoned, craning her head around to him to give a smirk, “staying silent.”

Bucky placed his beer on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Okay, so she’s not as pissed at me. We…spent time together and I didn’t get slapped or anythin’, so that’s a good sign.” He rubbed his metal hand over the back of his neck. “And we had coffee.”

“You had coffee?” Steve immediately jerked up his head, optimism fairly bursting from his pores.

“She made a pot. After the tree thing.”

“Oh.” Steve squinted. “So you didn’t go out for coffee, you shared some?”

“Yes.”

“That she was…already making.”

“Yeah.”

“…That’s good, Buck.” Steve sent a questioning glance to Nat. “That _is_ good, right?”

Before Nat could irritate him with yet another non-answer, Bucky continued, “And she lent me her book.”

At this, Natasha turned to look at him. “Which one?”

“ _Stardust_?”

“Hm.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“I know you’ve got somethin’ to say.”

“Oh, are you actually going to take my advice now?”

“Natalia,” he ground out.

Nat moved from the couch and came by the counters near Bucky. She perched herself, cross-legged, on a kitchen stool.

“Ask her to coffee this weekend. Real coffee, not the stuff in the common room.”

“I…can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve got a thing.” At her supremely unimpressed look, Bucky sighed. “Doc wants me to try to uh, cook. As a hobby.”

An arched brow and a twitch of the lips is all he got from her.

“Ah, shut up,” he said, without any venom.

“Sounds fun,” she answered, face carefully neutral. “And maybe Darcy just needs some time. She seems friendly enough towards you.”

Now it was his turn to look unimpressed.

“Well, sure she’s friendly. She ain’t a monster. But she wants nothin’ to do with me, not that I can blame her.” Bucky frowned. He hadn’t meant to sound so morose. Or pathetic. When had he become such a cliché? Moping into his beer over a dame? He was about eighty years too old for this shit, he was sure.

Nat peered at him for a moment, then reached up to gently pat his jaw.

“Oh, you beautiful idiot,” she finally sighed.

 

* * *

 

“You’re up early,” Bucky said to Clint. He pulled a smoothie out from the fridge, took a gulp and then immediately set the bottle right back in the fridge. What was it with this century and kale?

Clint sat at the table in the common room, chin propped on one hand, the sounds of the coffee machine going behind him.

“Went down to the labs to see if Tony’s finished working on my arrows yet. And they’re _all_ listening to Stark’s dadrock playlist,” Clint said, ominously. “That the first sign.”

“First sign of what?” Bucky began rummaging through the pantry for something that looked better than cold green sludge.

“Of a world-class science binge! Stark has Banner, Foster, and Lewis down there collaborating on something possibly – y’know – ” Clint mimed an explosion with his hands complete with sound effects.

“How long have they been there?”

“Shit. …Tuesday?”

Bucky raised a brow. “It’s Thursday.”

“I know, man.” The archer rolled his eyes as he got up to pour coffee into the largest mug Bucky had ever seen. “Wonder what they’re up to down there. Hey, do you think if they recreate Jurassic Park I could get a pet raptor?”

 “What.”

“I know. Too much to hope for,” Clint said sadly. He sighed into his mug of black swill he called coffee.

Which gave Bucky an idea.

An hour later he was carrying a tray of drinks in his hands, standing outside Jane and Darcy’s labs. Sure enough, he could hear the screeching guitars and wailing vocals from the hallway.

Once FRIDAY let him in, he was greeted with the sight of papers strewn on every surface, and two whiteboards completely covered in numbers and equations in messy, scrawled, handwriting. The sharp odor of ozone and smoke filled his nostrils and the music (if it could even be called that) was even louder in his ears. He tried not to wince. There was a person, most likely Dr. Foster, slumped over a desk, clutching a stack of spiral notebooks under her head like it was a makeshift pillow. The steady rise and fall of her shoulders indicated she was sleeping deeply.

Darcy came around the corner, holding a Starkpad with ink-stained fingers. She had a square of yellow paper stuck to her upper arm. “Bucky?”

“Hi.”

Darcy put a finger over her lips. “Shh, I just got her down for a nap,” she said in a voice louder than the statement warranted.

“Over this racket?”

She shrugged. “Can you turn the music off, please, FRIDAY?” Immediately, the room was silent but for Jane’s soft snores. Darcy giggled. “Good, she’s snoring. That means she’s really, really out.”

Bucky held out the tray of drinks. “Oh. But I brought – “

“Oh my god, is that _coffee_?! Like real coffee, not from a pod?!” Bucky bit down on his rapidly forming smile as Darcy reached out and took a cup with both hands. Darcy was pale, and there were shadows ringing her eyes, but she perked right up at the sight of caffeine.

“Yeah. Do me a favor and don’t tell Stark I bought him coffee.”

“No worries. He and Bruce are working in the back. They’re in the zone – I could hand them bubblegum soda and they wouldn’t notice so long as it wasn’t decaf.”

He set the three other cups on the table. Darcy’s oversized sweater was rumpled and she had two pens stuck in her ponytail.

“You should see the other guy,” Darcy remarked when she caught him looking.

“The other guy?”

Darcy slid her eyes over to Jane with a little laugh. She sipped at her drink and made a happy little noise. “I’d been her intern for so long, so I’m used to looking out for her while pacing myself.”

“This is you pacing yourself?”

“Shush, you.” Darcy sauntered over to poke him in the middle of his chest. Bucky took the opportunity to reach over and unstick the yellow Post-It from her sweater.

It read, unsettlingly enough, ‘GRAVITATIONAL COLLAPSE!!!’ in black block letters. He held it up questioningly but she only grinned and shoved it in her pocket.

“So are you, um, gonna stick around for a bit?” Darcy asked while plucking the pens from her hair. “Can’t promise we won’t put you to work, but I _can_ promise it’ll be fun.”

“I can’t,” Bucky sighed. With real regret, too, because he really did want to spend some time with her, manic scientists or not. “Got a meeting in ten, actually. I just wanted to drop these off. Say, ‘hi’.” He made his way towards the doors. “Good luck with your project. I’ll uh, see you around.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

Darcy was still holding her drink with both hands, her red, red lips curved into a smile over the rim of her cup. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled back.

 

* * *

 

“I’m not tinkering, or combing through any more journals, or leaving this couch,” Darcy announced without looking up. She’d sprawled herself over the lounge’s couch and was holding her book open with her thumb. “It’s my day off, and I’m finishing this book, so help me – oh!” she said when she saw him.

“Hey, Darcy,” he said.

“Hey,” she answered, and he caught the way her eyes flicked to the bundle of things in his arms.

“My oven isn’t working,” he explained.

It wasn’t a complete lie – his oven _was_ broken. It was just that it was broken because the knobs were missing. All of them. Completely missing. Like someone had taken them. Someone with red hair and a penchant for meddling.

He set the baking supplies on the counter.

“My - my Doc suggested a while back that I find another hobby that doesn’t involve shit getting blown up. Been tryin’ to take her advice, I guess.”

“That’s great, Bucky,” Darcy said, and how pleased she sounded made something in his chest warm, made his heart give hopeful thumps in his chest.

“So…what’re you making?” Her casual tone was belied by an eager gleam in her eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so happy to see a package of butter. She reached out with one hand, gently patted the gold foil, and sighed, “Oh my god, you’ve got the premium stuff.”

He had no idea what that meant. Butter was butter. Wasn’t it?

“I just had FRIDAY look up the recipe and make the order,” he admitted, sliding the carton of eggs back from where they were resting precariously on the edge of the counter.

“The recipe is for…”

Oh, he had her now, he could tell.

“Sugar cookies,” he replied casually and tamped down a grin as Darcy barely held back a squeak of joy. “Would you want to - ” he began, “I mean, if you’re not in the middle of – ”

“Yes! Absolutely, I will help. I am your sous chef, just tell me what to do,” she said, and pushed up the sleeves to her bulky pink sweater.

“Oh, but I thought you were in the middle of a good book,” he responded, unable to keep from teasing her, just a little.

“What book?” she answered with a shrug and a grin.

So with that, they got started.

The recipe that he printed out, while supposedly simple, was still a bit vague for a beginner like him and Darcy had to show him how to “cream the butter and sugar together until fluffy.”

And he felt a moment of sheer relief when it came time to work with the eggs and his hands, which had done horrible, messy, gory things, obeyed his mental commands and took the delicate ingredients and cracked them without an issue into the mixing bowl.

He was further grateful for her help when it came time to add the flour.

“In batches,” Darcy read off the instructions. The recipe didn’t specify how many batches, so he just dumped about half of it in with a shrug. Which was how he and Darcy ended up with clothing dusted with the stuff before her quick thinking had her pulling the plug on the stand mixer.

Still, her loud, shocked laughs and the soft little look she gave him when she reached up to wipe his cheek with the corner of a tea towel made it worth it.

Eventually, the dough was made and he upended the contents of the mixing bowl onto the countertop.

“Here,” she said, and handed him a rolling pin. Then she opened a drawer and handed him a purple latex glove as well.  At his look, she explained, “For um, your hand? I don’t know if you can get dough and stuff on it…”

“Oh. Yeah, thanks,” he said, and quickly pulled the glove over his left hand. He hadn’t even thought about it, and he was glad she did.

“You roll out the dough, I think I’ve got some cookie cutters at my place. I’ll be right back,” Darcy said, on the way out the door.

Bucky began rolling out the dough, careful to make it as even as possible.

He was probably being too overenthusiastic with how he was smoothing the rolling pin over the dough, because his glove ripped at the palm in no time.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, he reached into the drawer he saw Darcy use. After finding the box of gloves next to some Ziploc bags, he took one for himself.

He frowned in consternation when he realized he took the last one in the box.

“FRIDAY, could you order more of these gloves, please?”

FRIDAY came online in the next second. “Yes, Sergeant. Would you specify the type of gloves?”

Bucky hesitated in the middle of placing the measuring cups in the dishwasher. “They’re purple latex? The ones that were ordered before? For the common room?”

A momentary pause. “I’m sorry, Sergeant Barnes. I have no record of any gloves being ordered for the common room.”

“Alright. Thanks anyways.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

“No, that’s all.”

“I got out my snowflake cookie cutters!” Darcy called out excitedly, walking through the doors. “Way cuter than just circle ones, but we’ll have to watch the edges for burning.

“So, I used the last one a’ these,” Bucky said. He held up his left hand, and waved his fingers. “And I tried to get FRIDAY to order more…”

Darcy’s eyes widened – it was just a fraction but he caught that intriguing reaction.

“Oh. Um,” Darcy bit her lips and busied herself with the kitchen towel to wipe the counters of spilled flour and sugar.

“Are they…yours?”

“No, no. They’re um, well I guess technically they’re Stark’s.” She leaned in to mock-whisper, “I stole them from the labs. Don’t tell!”

“You stole them from the labs,” Bucky repeated.

At that, Darcy sighed and shut her eyes tight. “Yeah. And I put a box in here in case you wanted to bake. Or whatever,” Darcy admitted and mulishly set her chin as if to challenge him.

“But how did you know – ”

“Sam mentioned it, that you might wanna take up a hobby or something. As therapy, or whatever.”

“Sam? When?”

“Um…”

“Darcy.”

“When you first came here, okay? Listen, don’t be mad at him, I sort of pumped him for info about you when I heard you were coming and you know me, I got like, super overexcited.” She crossed her arms. Then uncrossed them, and began fiddling with the cookie cutters. “Are we gonna start cutting these into shapes, or what?”

He ignored her last question as a clearer picture was forming in his head.

Wilson mentioning to Darcy that part of his therapy might involve cooking, one of her hobbies. Darcy, immediately sneaking the gloves from the labs, and who expectantly waited for him to join her. And there he was fresh off the plane from Wakanda, setting his feet on American soil for the first time in years, not as a tool of HYDRA, but fully as himself - as Bucky Barnes.

A Bucky Barnes who didn’t want anything to do with anyone, much less an enthusiastic stranger who asked a lot of questions.

There was guilt over how that went, but over all of it, a sense of gratefulness.

His friends were looking out for him, even when he was hesitant to call them friends.

Overcome, he took two strides towards the woman in front of him and bent down to wrap his arms around her. She startled for a second, then to his relief relaxed in his arms, bringing her own around him so he could feel her palms at his back.

“Darcy, thank you,” he breathed into her hair.

“You’re not…mad at me?” came her voice, small and muffled from where she was pressed into his shoulder.

He pulled back to look into her worried eyes. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I push too hard for people to be my buddy and like me?”

Bucky smiled. “Someone once told me that not everyone has to like you.”

Darcy huffed out a laugh and slid her gaze to the floor.

“ _I_ like you,” Bucky confessed, and it felt like staring down the edge of a cliff then leaping. His face flushed with heat and his blood coursed loudly in his veins.

It was an understatement, he knew.

Throughout everything, he had tried to give her the space he knew she needed. Then he’d told himself that just her friendship was enough – that if they could only hang out in the common rooms and watch movies and sass each other that would be enough for him.

It still would be, he realized. It was already more than he deserved. He could and would live on those moments alone if he had to. But when she was there, in his arms, solid and warm and sweet in front of him looking at him with those deep blue eyes, he thought – _hoped –_ that maybe they could be something more.

“Bucky…” she said, in a voice so gentle it sent warmth pooling in his belly.

Darcy placed one palm on his face and she was looking at him with such affection, it made something beat wildly against his chest.

He leaned into her touch, unable to help himself.

“Darcy, you gotta tell me,” he murmured, even as he brought his hands up to cradle her face and she was looking up at him with wide, bright eyes. “If you want – ” He swallowed against an aching throat. “If you still want me. Tell me to go pound sand and I will, but – ”

But it seemed that the universe and Darcy had seen him and taken pity on him.

“Bucky,” she said, while she ghosted cool fingertips over his cheekbones – a gesture so light it had him fluttering his eyes shut. “Of course I want you.”

And Bucky had never, in his long and violent life, felt like this before. Like everything inside of him was fizzing, thrumming beneath his skin. Happiness and relief rolling over him so keenly he felt like he would burst with it.

Was this what falling for someone felt like, he wondered?

How could anyone stand it, not go absolutely insane with it?

He certainly felt crazy, with the way he knew his smile was stretching across his face at her in response to her five simple words.

“I – I wasn’t sure if…if you’d forgiven me for the shit that I’ve done. And I _am_ sorry, Darce. So sorry. I’d never meant to –”

“I think I forgave a while ago,” she said simply, and he grinned. “And I swear to god, if you make one joke about how I’m easy – ”

“No. No, doll,” he laughed, joy bubbling up from within him. “You’re perfect.” He ran his thumb over her soft bottom lip, the one he’d spent many dark, lonely nights thinking about. “Perfect,” he repeated, in a whisper, before leaning down to cover her lips with his.

He kept their kiss gentle, vigilant for any signs she might want to stop.

But then she sighed softly, her breath fanning warm over him, and shifted against him. The feeling of her tongue licking into his mouth finally did him in, and with an answering groan he pulled her closer, desperate for the taste of her.

She tasted like sugar and vanilla, like she’d been sneaking little bites of the cookie dough, and it was so _her_ that he couldn’t help but smile into their kiss. When she swirled her tongue against his, he thought he might go delirious with the pleasure of it.

Finally, he dragged his lips away from hers. Bucky leaned his forehead against hers as they took ragged breaths of air.

He dropped little kisses along her jaw, and she tilted her head for more.

The curve between neck and shoulder, the soft, smooth skin there, was his new favorite place in the world and he gently scraped his teeth against it.

The sound she made was something between a whimper and gasp, and it roused him.

She didn’t deserve to be mauled in…oh hell, they were still in the common kitchen, where anyone could walk in.

“Wanna do this right,” Bucky rasped, his words falling into the heated space between them.

Darcy nodded, hands still clutching at his shirt, her rapid pulse strumming beneath his fingers.

“Go out with me,” he said, breathlessly, and pulled back again to search out her darkened eyes with his.

“…Wha -?”

Well, at least she sounded as muddled as he felt.

“Go out with me,” he said again, and was almost dizzy at the thought. He would take his girl out on a proper date, at last, after everything. “What would you like? Dinner? Dancing? Anything you want, sweetheart.”

“What, _now?_ ”

Bucky, chuckling, leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Not now. How’s Friday?”

“Oh – I thought – ” Darcy cut herself off and shook her head slightly. ~~~~

There was a tinge of hesitance and doubt in her reply and he rushed to explain himself.

“We’d gotten to such a shaky start. I wanna – wanna do this right. ‘Cause it’s _you_ , Darcy,” Bucky said earnestly, despite the girl in his arms looking like sin itself with her kiss plump lips, tousled hair, and pinked cheeks.

Darcy smiled back at him. “…Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s a date, Bucky Barnes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Kissing happened! Yay!
> 
> \- Yes, these two nerds were so caught up in each other they forgot to pre-heat the oven. So yeah, no cookies were made that day. What can ya do, amirite ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> \- I posted two chapters, today! Please click on the “Next Chapter” button, if you are so inclined <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- ATTENTION, PART 1: I POSTED TWO CHAPTERS TODAY! If you haven’t read Chapter 9, you can [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12905889/chapters/30982128).
> 
> \- ATTENTION, PART 2: Please note the rating change. This chapter is NSFW.

How do you tell the guy you’re head over heels for that you were basically five minutes away from taking off your shirt and his, too?

That was Darcy’s dilemma when she was pressed up against Bucky in the common room kitchen, cookies completely forgotten on the countertop. Then he’d asked her on a date - an actual date - and she basically melted.

That sweet, sweet man, insisting on taking her dancing. How could she possibly refuse?

Of course, now she _was_ regretting it a little.

The end of the week was so far away and he was so incredibly hot, she mentally whined.

Aside from their…moment in the kitchen, their schedules meant she and Bucky had hardly seen much of each other at all.

Darcy stared at her computer screen, lines of data blurring together, as she relived the feeling of Bucky’s mouth over her pulse, of his big, warm hands grasping her hips, and imagined how they’d feel on her bare skin.

“I am going to spritz you with water,” Jane warned her as she passed by her desk with a knowing smile. “Like a cat.”

Darcy blinked. Then blushed. “God, I’d probably need it,” she admitted with a wry twist in her lips.

“Was I this bad?”

“Yes,” answered Darcy immediately. “Worse, maybe,” she teased. “At least I remember to eat.”

“I ate!” protested Jane with an indignant gasp.

“7-Eleven taquitos bought at 10pm do not count as a meal.”

“Whatever. When’s the date?”

“Friday,” Darcy answered in a tone that suggested that Friday might as well be a hundred years away.

Friday.

She was an adult. She was a strong, independent lady who could hold off on jumping a ridiculously attractive supersoldier, then dragging him to the nearest horizontal surface and –

Okay. Yeah, maybe she did need to be spritzed with water.

 

* * *

 

On Wednesday morning, Darcy was pouring milk into two bowls of Lucky Charms, letting herself indulge in sneaking glances at Bucky all the while. This early in the morning, his hair was slightly shaggy and he eyes were still heavy lidded with sleep – it was a beautiful sight.

Bucky slid a mug of coffee towards her, as she set a bowl of cereal in front of him. She got a quick wink in thanks, and despite the early hour and the fact that she was still half asleep, it sent a pleasant hum down her spine. When she kissed his cheek he leaned into it, like a satisfied cat.

“Gross,” Wanda commented, smiling, from across the table where she was nibbling on a corner of jam-slathered toast.

“You’d think it’d be too early for this,” Natasha remarked, with a smirk.

Bucky, one arm draped over the back of Darcy’s chair, raised one brow at the Widow. “You’re partly to blame you know. Been expanding your skills into oven repair lately?”

Natasha didn’t even bother to mask her confusion and lowered her cup of tea. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve coughed softly. The corners of his lips were doing that twitchy thing it did he was trying very, very hard not to laugh. “Uh, Buck. That would be me.”

Bucky goggled. “That was you, punk?!”

Darcy, who at that point had spent most of her brain power trying to convey spoonfuls of her cereal and marshmallows to her mouth, perked up with the commotion.

“I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

 

* * *

 

It was Thursday when he gave her a blinding smile as he followed a little bit behind Steve and Clint as they were headed to training. He was wearing his tac pants with a grey tee that barely contained his biceps. His silver fingers gleamed when he gave her a little wave.

Which, ugh.

How dare he?!

Afterwards, she dragged him into a little alcove when he was on his way out from the gym. Not caring that he was sweaty, she shoved him up against the wall, pulled him down to her by the neck of his ought-to-be-illegal tight shirt and kissed him. When his mouth opened under hers, she chased the taste of him under the salt-sweet of the Gatorade he’d been drinking.

“Missed me, did ya?” he quipped, before he gave back as good as he got, kissing her fiercely and laughing low and rumbly at the little noise she made when he turned them around, he hiked her leg over his hip, and pressed his fingers into the back of her thighs.

They only sprang apart like guilty teenagers when Sam’s voice rang out from the other end of the hall.

“Can y’all _not?!_ ”

 

* * *

 

On Friday night, Darcy and her fluttering stomach answered the door.

“Wish me luck, Ada,” she said to the cat, who responded by licking disinterestedly at her paw.

She wasn’t sure why she was nervous. The soft waves in her hair were obeying her for once, and she knew she looked bomb as hell in her peacock teal dress with the scoop neck. And it wasn’t like she didn’t know if they would get along. The fact that she and Bucky spent the past week making “heart eyes” (as Clint called them) at each other was a testament to that.

Maybe it was the fact that this was a do-over, so to speak. A chance to repeat the attempt of their first blind date, this time with both parties knowing exactly who they were meeting.

Her stomach made more trembly motions again as she turned the knob.

On the other side of the door, Bucky was holding out a little bouquet of lavender daisies out to her.

“Bucky, they’re so pretty!” she exclaimed and reached up on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of his smiling mouth. His skin was smooth there, and when she drew back to really look at him, her breath caught in her throat.

His scruff was gone, and the ends of his hair were trimmed. He looked like he did that night at Matuschek’s, except now she was actually allowed to enjoy it.

“You shaved,” Darcy said, déjà vu sweeping over her. But she didn’t bother to conceal her admiring gaze this time.

“I did.” Bucky smiled, his eyes dipping down shyly. He haltingly brought a hand to the side of his neck. Darcy reached up to play with the silky ends of his hair and he caught her hand in his, threading their fingers together. His calluses rubbed on her knuckles and she held back a pleasant shiver. “You look - ” his own gaze was languid as it traveled from her heels to her dress. “You’re gorgeous.”

Darcy bit her bottom lip, and clutched her flowers tighter, giddiness welling up inside her.

“Oh, hey, Lewis. Barnes.”

They immediately stepped apart at Stark’s greeting. He was walking out of Jane’s place next door holding a toolbox.

Darcy quickly shoved the bouquet behind her back with one hand and shut her door with the other. If Tony found out they were going on a date, they’d never hear the end of it.

“Hey. What’re you doing here, Stark?”

“It’s _my_ building,” Tony said, then at their non-responses, continued, “Foster said the holoscreen in her suite wasn’t working, and I had some free time. Took a look at it. Pretty sure Point Break broke it somehow, but don’t tell him I said that.”

“Oh. You’re uh – all done?” asked Bucky.

“Yeah, there was just an issue with the – “

From behind her, came the repeated scratching noises on the other side of the door. The scratching of tiny paws and claws.

Ada.

Shit.

Darcy schooled her features into something resembling casual and innocent. A sideways glance at Bucky told her he heard the noise too.

“What’s that sound?” Stark asked, head tilted slightly forwards slightly.

Darcy opened her mouth to throw out excuses (none of them very good, if she was being honest), but was interrupted by a soft, ‘ _mew!’._

“What sound? I don’t hear anything.” Darcy sent a panicked look to Bucky. “Do you?”

“No,” Bucky replied smoothly. “You need to get your ears checked, old man?”

“Hey! You’re older than me, tech – “

_Meeew._

“There! That! What was that?”

“Oh that?” Darcy forced a little casual laugh. “That was – “

“My arm,” Bucky finished for her. “That was my arm. It makes strange noises sometimes. Y’know it’s the, uh…”

Stark paused for a moment that seemed like years. “It’s that old tech,” he said, finally, lifting the weight off of Darcy’s chest. “You come down to my labs, and I’ll get it all fixed up.”

Darcy and Bucky nodded.

Then Stark narrowed his eyes at them both. “Barnes, what the hell are _you_ doing on this floor?”

“He’s returning my book,” Darcy answered for him.

“Barnes, you know how to read?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Bye, Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said and headed to the elevators. “Your arm. My workshop. Whenever you’re free,” he pointed to Bucky with a wrench, before the elevator doors closed.

Their shoulders sagged in relief once Tony was gone.

“Oh, god, that was close,” said Darcy, bringing her flowers to chest. She turned to him. “That was a good save. Thanks.”

“Not a problem, doll.”

_Meeeew._

“Sounds like your pal’s missin’ ya already,” Bucky remarked.

Darcy laughed. “Yeah, she’s like, the clingiest cat I’ve ever met.” She brought the blooms to her nose and breathed in their gentle green scent. “I should put these guys in a vase. You wanna come in for a sec? Maybe meet Ada?”

Bucky nodded, and followed her inside.

The second they were through the door, the little grey furball immediately wound herself through Darcy’s legs, purring loudly.

“AdaBear, you almost got me evicted!” Darcy complained, reaching down to scratch the back of Ada’s neck. Ada only gave her raspy, loud ‘meow’ in reply. She stepped out of the way of the cat who was likely to actually trip her one of these days and headed towards the cupboard. After a few moments of searching, she pulled out an empty jam jar. “I don’t have a vase, this’ll have to do,” she turned to explain to Bucky.

Bucky, who was sitting cross-legged in the middle of her floor, Ada squirming her way up his arm to attempt to rest on his shoulder. He’d turned towards her kitten, scritching under her chin with one metal index finger.

“She’s cute,” he said, letting out a little laugh when Ada attempted to headbutt the finger, then slipped and tumbled off of him in a blur of striped grey.

“You’ve made a friend!” Darcy exclaimed, and quickly set her flowers in the jar with water. When she sat by Bucky on the floor, he pressed his arm against hers.

Ada spent a couple moments batting at his shoelaces, and when Darcy gently pushed her away she decided her time was better spent investigating things beneath the couch.

“Glad I could I finally meet her,” he said. “Even if she’s bored of me.” Bucky stood up, then helped her up too.

She brushed off the seat of her skirt. “What’s the plan for the evening?” she asked.

“Well, we could go dancing or see a movie, I thought I’d leave that part up to you,” Bucky answered, placing a hand on her waist, his thumb moving distractingly back and forth. “But first we’ve got dinner reservations at 7.”

Darcy flicked a quick glance to the digital clock on her stove.

“Good,” Darcy said. “There’s time for me to kiss you.”

Bucky, a dangerous smile playing on his face, took a step towards her. “Good plan,” he said, and began crowding her towards the couch.

She’d meant for the kiss to be brief, chaste. They apparently had dinner reservations soon. But Bucky had his hands in her hair and before she knew it, she was practically straddling him on her couch, her knees digging into the cushions. Not that he seemed to mind, with how quickly he’d hauled her closer.

And there was something in the way that he looked her – happy and unguarded. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and he had a little smear of berry-red at his lips despite her lipstick being advertised as “kiss-proof”. She wondered if she should start marketing a new line, this time as “Bucky-proof”, and giggled.

“What?” Bucky tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and brushed the cool fingertips of his left hand down the side of her neck.

“Nothing. Just…happy,” she answered, honestly.

“Good,” Bucky said, voice low. He leaned towards her again. “Wanna make you the happiest, Darce.”

She found herself melting into his kisses once more, looping her arms about his neck as he pulled soft sounds of pleasure from her. Darcy tightened her thighs around him, gasped when she could feel him hot and hard against her even through his slacks.

“I’ve got a, um, a bed,” she informed him, shifting her hips over his and reveling in his tightening grip on her.

Darcy tried very hard not squirm under the hungry gaze he gave her at that statement.

“S’that so?”

“Yep. With pillows, and blankets, and everything – oh!” Bucky immediately rose to his feet, with her secure in his arms. “Down the hall, to the right,” Darcy said, feeling a giggle bubbling up inside her.

It felt like an eternity before they made it to her room, and Bucky kicked the door shut behind them with a decisive slam and set her on slightly wobbly feet.

The second she slipped out of her dress, he was on her. It was a curious sensation to be mostly undressed and pressed up against someone who still had his clothes on, but she decided she liked it. Then he deftly undid the clasp of her bra, and she decided she liked _that_ even more. Because once she was bared Bucky was looking at her like he could and would devour her whole.

“You’re…amazing,” he said, and she shivered at the gravel in his voice.

Then he got on his knees in front of her and she just about fainted at the sight of him, all dark hair and broad shoulders, still dressed and between her legs. He hooked his thumbs into the hips of her underwear and drew them down pausing to let her step out of them. He trailed his lips over her stomach, her hipbones, his hands sweeping over the backs of her thighs leaving blooms of heat wherever he touched her.

“Need – need to lie down,” she gasped, suddenly unsure of her ability to stay upright.

After he lay her back on the mattress, Bucky reached back behind him with one arm to pull off his own shirt. Darcy’s mouth went dry with the sight of his muscled shoulders, of the fine hairs beneath his belly button that led lower.

It was only when she reached for his belt buckle that he hesitated, covering her hands with his.

“Darce, you – you’re sure?”

She leaned up on her elbows to catch his lips with hers and drew his tongue into her mouth. “Very,” she said, and watched as he undressed.

In the soft glow of her bedside lamp, he was incredibly, unfairly beautiful and he was finally here in her bed where she was free touch and explore.

She couldn’t help but wet her lips at the sight of him.

“Jesus,” Bucky said, and the muscle in his jaw ticked. “Look at me like that and I won’t last, doll.”

She quirked her lips in challenge and palmed him through his black boxer-briefs, where he was thick and heavy. All for her. She couldn’t wait.

“Lay back,” she murmured and gently pushed on his chest for good measure. Bucky did as he was told, the dark strands of his hair fanning out around him on her pillow. She swept her hands over his hard pecs, dipped her fingers at the valleys of his abs. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her lips when she bent down to press them to the center of his chest.

He swallowed audibly and she smiled.

“This okay?” she asked as she edged her hand towards the scarring where his cybernetic arm met his shoulder.

He nodded once, jerkily, and held himself very still. He was still watching her through his dark lashes, mouth slightly parted.

“Are you sure? I won’t touch you here, if you don’t –”

“You go ahead and touch me, sweetheart. However you like,” Bucky said and her heart stuttered at the trust he placed in her.

So she did, trailing light fingers over the smooth, raised skin of his scars that radiated from his shoulder like threads of lightening. She let the pad of her fingers catch slightly in the plates of his arm and leaned down to dot his shoulder with a wet kiss, the metal cool and smooth under her lips.

“You can touch me, too,” she informed him with a saucy smile and he did, bringing his flesh hand up to trace the dip in her waist and sweep her thigh where she straddled him. Darcy sucked in a breath at the sensation of his warm hand cupping her breast. She leaned forward into his touch in encouragement, and when he pinched her nipple she couldn’t help but jerk her hips, the little whimper he drew from her lips completely spontaneous.

Bucky clamped his hand to the back of her neck, pulled her down and delved into her mouth, all teeth and tongue. Darcy retaliated by pushing down his briefs, just enough to release his cock. She wrapped her hand around him, her pussy clenching in anticipation of how wonderfully thick he was. She pumped him till he made a sighing wounded noise into her throat. Frantically, they both just shoved the piece of fabric off and away.

Finally, he was bared to her and she rocked back and forth along his length, slicking him up, keeping her pace achingly slow to tease them both.

His eyes slid shut almost immediately. “Oh, _fuck –”_

“You’re gonna wanna see this,” she whispered, and he snapped his eyes open just as she took his cock in hand and began to take him inside her.

The stretch and push of him was wonderful, luscious in a way she didn’t think she could ever describe. She rolled her hips to take more of him inside her, inch by inch. Darcy would have been embarrassed at her breathy cry when she finally took all of him, but she found that she didn’t care. Everything with Bucky had felt good and _right._

And nothing could possibly be wrong with how he looked beneath her, pupils blown with desire, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth and a rosy glow on his cheeks.

She worked herself on and above him, sinking in to the hilt each time. He watched her with glazed eyes, kneading her breasts just rough enough, then sweeping gently over the soft skin of her belly.

Soon she found her perfect angle, the one that had his cock hitting the place inside her that lit everything up.

“ _Oh...”_ she breathed, canting forward to get more, more of him inside her, dragging on her g-spot just right, more of her clit rubbing on him on the downstroke.

She brought one arm to the headboard for leverage and if Bucky had any objections to her basically rutting against him, it was lost in his own groans and gasps, in his fingers pressing hard into the flesh of her thighs so she was sure she’d have his mark on her the next day.

Her orgasm was so close, coiled tight in her lower belly and when she came it was with Bucky plucking at her nipples, and something that might have resembled his name spilling from her lips.

She was loose-limbed and hazy-eyed as she came down, head hanging forward and panting.

Bucky must have seen his chance because next, she found herself flipped over, flat on her back with Bucky holding himself above her. He nipped playfully at her bottom lip and she cupped his cheek tenderly, smiling loopily.

“ _Beautiful_.” He turned to press his lips to her wrist. “You were so beautiful when you came, sweetheart,” he said, and kissed her hard as he slid inside of her again. Hungrily, he swallowed her answering moan.

In this position, he was all around her and inside her. She was still sensitive from coming but a roll of his hips had light sparking behind her eyelids. She spread her thighs wider and locked her ankles behind his back.

Above her, Bucky panted, brows shiny with a thin sheen of sweat. There was something to being under his focus like this, his familiar blue-grey eyes gone nearly black with lust for her.

“Bucky,” she gasped, after his thrusts made her feel him so deep inside her that urgency was spreading through her once more. “God, _please –_ “

“Yeah?” He growled in approval, hunched over her and snapped into her once, twice.

“I’m gonna – again, I –”

“Fuck,” he groaned, when she tightened around him. He reached in between them to slide his fingers over her eager clit, circling tightly, sending jolts of arousal through her again. He was using his metal fingers, she realized dizzily, it was his left arm that was slotted between them. And that thought, that it was him, it was _Bucky,_ that was making her feel this good, pushed her closer towards the edge.

“You’re gonna come for me again, ain’tcha?” he said, and she arched into his touch, encouraged him with nails down his back. “Just for me – like, like you’re _mine_ ,” he husked hotly into her ear, like a secret.

She came, and the pleasure was so sharp that she let out a sobbing cry, only dimly aware of the world around her as her pussy grasped tight around him, and her own heartbeat rang loud in her ears.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky snarled through his teeth. “So good – you feel so good, _fuck.”_ Bucky’s own steady rhythm was traded for jerky, stuttering movements. He muffled a low, strangled sound against her neck as he buried himself deep, and spilled hotly inside of her.

Slowly, so slowly, she drifted back and became aware his weight on top of her. After long moments of breathing heavily on both their parts, he leaned down to kiss her once, deeply, pulling back to give her sated smile.

Bucky rolled them both so that she was lying on top of him. She resisted the urge to groan – she felt like a ragdoll.

“I think,” Bucky said, still slightly breathless, and staring at the ceiling, “That we missed our reservations.”

Darcy giggled, then snuggled into his shoulder.

“I’m pretty okay with that,” she said, dazedly. She looked up at him, resting her chin on her hands, and gave him a smirk which he returned. “Let’s order in.”

“Good plan. We’ll go out tomorrow?”

“Yep.” She bit down on a yawn that was threatening to form. Her sweat was cooling on her skin and her inner thighs were starting to become a slippery mess, but she couldn’t bring herself to care just yet. First, she wanted to bask, let the endorphins do their thing. “Wanna go to Posey’s with me? I still haven’t spent that gift card you got me.”

She could feel him jerk slightly to alertness beneath her.

“I have something for you,” he stated suddenly.

“Okaaay.” Her head still felt a bit muzzy but she was certain that the turn he was taking this post-coital conversation on was pretty abrupt.

“Stay right here, I’m gonna go get it.” He quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek.

He got out of bed and Darcy was treated to the sight of James Buchanan Barnes’ bare ass. At least before he pulled his pants back on.

She pouted, tugging the sheets up over herself.

“This plan sucks. You’re putting on pants!” she protested.

He gave her a rakish smile over his shoulder.

“Be back before you know it,” he promised with a wink, and slipped on his shirt. It was inside out, but she didn’t tell him.

She was on her stomach and dozing lightly when Bucky returned.

He was carrying a plastic bag, which he held onto as he started to take off his shoes and join her on the bed.

“Wait!” Darcy said. “This is an Equal-Opportunity Nakedness Zone. If I’m naked under here, you have to be, too.”

“You still naked under there?” Bucky placed the bag next to her on the rumpled duvet. To her delight, he began undressing. She was going to have to make the EONZ a real thing now that she knew he’d obey.

“You complaining?” she countered, and sat up on her elbows, letting the sheets slip low on her breasts.

“You’re a troublemaker,” Bucky growled playfully, and got back into bed. The mattress dipped, and Darcy was rolled towards him. “And no, I’m not complainin’.” He kissed her chin, then walked his index and middle fingers over her ribs until she swatted him away with a laugh. He slid his eyes to bag. “Go ahead, open it.”

“It’s not wrapped,” she snarked, and got a tiny pinch on her thigh for her trouble. She yelped. “Okay! Okay! Gimme,” she said, and reached her hand into the bag.

Her hand smoothed over something cool, round, and surprisingly heavy. She sent a confused glance at Bucky before she took it out.

“Oh my god,” she breathed and looked up find Bucky grinning, smug and happy.

It was a snow globe.

A snow globe of New Mexico. The base was the red desert and inside were hot air balloons and mesas and rock formations. When she inverted it, glittery white snowflakes fell and swirled around the scene.

“I bought this for you for the Secret Santa,” Bucky murmured softly, from where he was resting his chin on her shoulder. “But um…I thought it’d show my hand. You mentioned you missed it there and…d’you like it?”

Darcy could only manage a nod. She remembered the texts to him, referencing as vaguely as she could her time in the southwest, mentioning that it needed snow to be perfect.

Bucky had given her snow in New Mexico.

“I love it,” she said around a watery smile, and kissed him soundly. “Thank you.” Darcy watched as little flakes of glitter landed on a cactus. She thought of her texts and messages to him back then, of how they’d been revealing little parts of themselves to each other without even knowing it. “Do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we’d never…”

“Never…”

“Argued so much?” Gently, she placed the snowglobe on her nightstand next to her alarm clock where she would see it every day. When she turned back to him, he tucked her back under his arm.

“Mm. You mean if you didn’t teach me the wrong way to do a fist bump, dollface?”

“There’s no wrong way to do a fist bump,” Darcy said seriously, lifting her face to his. “It’s a gesture of victory and friendship!”

“Darcy, you told me that after a fist bump it’s traditional to say, ‘pah la la la lah’ like that Michelin man from the movie.”

“His name was Baymax, and you know it.”

“I don’t care what his name was, Wilson didn’t let that one go for a week!”

“Well, eventually you got me back for that one. The glitter in my shoes, remember?”

Bucky gave her a dimpled grin. “I remember.”

“You don’t miss the pranking, do you?” she teased. “Don’t worry, even though we’ve had really great sex, I’ll still sass you.”

“Oh, I’m countin’ on it,” he replied, bemused. Then after a beat he continued, “I don’t know. Maybe…Maybe we woulda gotten along right away, sweetheart.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe we wouldn’ta fought so much.”

“The only fight we’d ever have is which movie to watch on Saturday night,” she added, wiggling her toes against his calf. He ran so wonderfully warm, as she was beginning to discover.

His lips slid silkily against the skin of her bare shoulder. “Well, who fights about that?” he murmured.

“Some people,” Darcy answered. She threaded her fingers through the soft strands of his hair, and angled his face so that his nose nuzzled hers. “Not us.”

Bucky smiled mischievously, his hand disappearing under the covers once more.

“No, doll. Never us.”

 

* * *

 

                                                                                                

 

_Bucky: I love you._

_Darcy: I know. I love you too._

_Darcy: Now come back to bed, dork._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END :) 
> 
> \- Whew! Can you believe that I’d initially thought this would be 4 chapters at most? LOL.
> 
> \- also i know it snows in some parts of NM, please pretend it doesn't in Puente Antiguo ;)
> 
> \- Thank you thank you thank you for reading! And more thanks for all of your comments, kudos, and reblogs! Please let me know if you liked this! I always love reading your comments, so leave me one if you wanna :*
> 
> \- Come hang out with me on tumblr [here](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/) !


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